


The Ship In Which You Sail

by Hekate1308



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Family Angst, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-07 00:11:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17949842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Fred Thursday could never have imagined that it would turn out that his bagman was the head of a magical police force. Nor could he have expected that he would learn of a tragedy that had robbed Morse of everything he'd held dear, years ago. And then things got even more complicated, as he struggled to keep a grasp on the facts in more ways than one while working on a supernatural case. Magical Realism AU.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Well, my friends, it's time for more Magical Realism Endeavour AUs - just a few short things:   
> 1\. Canon only happened as far as I am referencing it. Some things had to give.   
> 2\. There will be daily updates.  
> 3\. Enjoy!

As a wise man had once told him, it was all about routine. Once one got used to things, it was difficult to imagine them ever changing again – or remembering that once, this hadn’t been normal, this hadn’t been how he started his day, this hadn’t been how he saw this house.

But he’d got used to it. He’d had to.

And so he got out of the car and knocked on the door.

Routine, however, he had quickly learned, was only one part of it.

The other was calling people and things by their proper names, or rather, the names they had been given and he couldn’t do anything about.

And so, it was _Miss Thursday_ who opened the door for him; _Mrs. Thursday_ who greeted him politely; and, as had been the case for almost three years now, _Inspector Thursday_ whom Morse picked up to drive him to work.

“Morning, Morse.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“Anything new?”

He shook his head. Even last night had been remarkably calm; save one incident with a banshee, they hadn’t had anything to do. Not that he could tell the inspector that.

“United’s had a rough couple of weeks” he aided as Morse drove them to the station.

By now, he knew how to react. “Is that so, sir?”

He sighed. “Really should stop talking football with you.”

Morse could have said a lot of things about that, but chose not to. As always.

The first thing he did when he got to the station was making tea. His second-in-command stepped up to him and said under his breath, “Sally’s been in touch. A lamia problem. They handled it.”

“Thanks” he murmured back, checking to see whether Strange had noticed. He hadn’t. Good.

Yes, in the end, it was all just routine, he thought as he brought Inspector Thursday a cup.

“Thanks, Morse.”

He nodded.

Yes, routine and habit had carried him through many stress- and painful days. They had insured that he said the right things, did the right things, thought the right things. They had made it easier when he had thought he couldn’t go on.

In his darkest moments –

But he did his best not to think of those. Yes, things had been difficult for a while; a long while; but now, he had it all figured out, or so he liked to pretend to himself.

True, sometimes at night the doubts came back, the doubts that had always been there, if he was being honest; the doubts that always would be there.

_After all, if they really loved you like you loved them, wouldn’t they –_

But he didn’t think of such things.

Routine, habit, and dealing with what was thrown at them in-between. That’s what he did, what all of them did. At least all of them who knew the truth about what and who he had used to be, once upon a time, so long ago.

But he didn’t know that on that very day, both routine and habit would be thrown out the window in a rather spectacular manner.

No, Endeavour Morse had no idea that today would be the day where everything changed once more.

* * *

It was his own fault. He should have noticed he was running out of tobacco. Well, the short walk would do him no harm; he actually loved Oxford at night, when the city had settled down.

And it wasn’t as if he was too tired. It had been a remarkably quiet few weeks at work. In fact, Fred was rather ashamed to admit that he was getting a bit of cabin fever – after all, a new case would mean terrible news for someone in their great city.

Morse had been somewhat subdued lately too, he thought. Maybe he should cajole him into having dinner with them one of these days; it wasn’t a good idea to leave him alone with that big brain of his, he tended to grow rather morbid –

And that was when he heard the commotion. There were shouts, then screaming, and then someone barking orders –

And Fred was too far away, but he couldn’t help but think he recognized at least one of the voices, although he couldn’t quite place it at that moment.

He didn’t think. As always when someone was in danger, he simply acted. He hadn’t sworn to protect this town for nothing.

As he ran, the voices came closer.

He rounded a corner and stood still.

It wasn’t every day that he saw a grown wolf in the middle of Oxford.

Not; not even that.

That animal was too big to be considered a wolf. Its teeth glinted in the moonlight, its mad eyes were glowering at –

And then the beast jumped, and Morse jumped, and Fred would later think that he must have shouted something, but he couldn’t be sure.

He’d never be able to quite make sense of what he saw next.

Somehow, Morse managed to wrangle the beast to the ground. That in itself shouldn’t have been possible; it seemed more likely that he could have dealt with that tiger some time ago than this – this –

But still – Morse held it down, and then others rushed to help him, and Fred watched in fascination as Morse drew a needle out of the pocket of a coat he had never seen before and stabbed the wolf with it.

A second later, the animal was gone and all that remained was a shivering, naked man.

Morse kneeled down next to him. “Now, now, Mr. Turner, you aren’t the first one this has happened to, and we were there to prevent the worst, so why don’t you –“

“What the bloody hell?” Fred’s words disrupted the silence that seemed to have settled over the neighbourhood once the wolf had transformed, and Morse’s head snapped up.

And expression Fred couldn’t read crossed his face, then he jumped up. “Sir!”

“Morse” he said as calmly as he could, “Would you do me the favour to explain what I just saw?”


	2. Chapter 2

Morse looked at the man who had until very recently been a wolf, then at Fred again. “Sir, first of all we have to –“

One of those who had come to help him rose from his own kneeling position and touched his forearm. “It’s okay, Dev, we’ll deal with this.”

“Jakes!?” Fred spluttered before he could help himself.

And _Dev_? The last thing he knew, they hadn’t even been particularly friendly.

“Good evening, sir” he said calmly, and Fred could only nod.

Morse sighed. “You are right, we better split up. Thank you, Peter.”

“Don’t mention it.” He glanced at Fred. “Unless you want me to –“

“Thanks, I can handle it.”

Morse walked up to Fred. “Let’s go to a pub, sir. I think we both need a drink.”

There was something different about the lad, Fred decided, and it wasn’t just because he had watched him take down a giant beast. No, he held himself differently; his manner spoke of an authority he shouldn’t have been used to carry but was explained when a voice called out, “Wait a minute, sir!”

“Yes, what is it, Sally?” he asked not unkindly when the young woman ran up to him.

“Should we be informing Mrs. Turner now or later? It’s only that they tend to be rather disorientated, and she hasn’t got anyone to look after –“

“You’re quite right. Let’s wait until he gets his bearings.”

She nodded. “Sir.” Then, to Fred’s surprise, she turned to him and said, “Inspector Thursday.”

He nodded and she left to help Jakes and the others deal with Mr. Turner.

He wasn’t surprised that Morse knew where the nearest pub was.

“Now –“ he began as soon as they had sat down with their pints, but Morse shook his head.

“Just a second, please.” He took a small bag out of his pocket and burned it. “Now no one will be able to tell what we’re talking about.”

So many questions he’d wanted to ask, and now he didn’t know what to say to this strange version of his bagman. He eventually went with the first he had asked back in the street. “What happened?”

“Mr. Turner wolfed out. It’s unfortunate, but sometimes it can’t be avoided. Werewolves tend to –“

“Werewolves” he said flatly.

“Oh yes, right” Morse was shaking his head. “Sorry. I should probably start with the fact that magical and supernatural creatures exist, and that they need policing just like any human being does.”

“So you and Jakes are part of some – secret police?”

He chuckled. “That is one way to put it.” He almost immediately grew serious again. “We make sure no one is inconvenienced by the supernatural and do our best to protect both creatures and humans.”

“Who’s the supervising officer?”

It was only when he saw Morse’s somewhat sarcastic smile that he understood.

“Endeavour Morse, Captain of the Guard” he introduced himself.

The Guard.

“And Jakes?”

“He’s my second-in-command. I couldn’t ask for a better officer.”

To hear Morse talk so matter-of-factly like Fred himself did to Superintendent Bright was rather difficult to get used to. “But then why –“

“Do we work for the City Police, too?” A knowing smile. “We decided we had to have a foot in both camps, sir. And Peter wouldn’t allow me to go alone.”

Peter. “You’ve known him longer, then.”

He shrugged. “About ten years, now.”

Ten years. The man he would have been ready to swear didn’t even like his bagman. And supernatural creatures existed without Thursday knowing it. “Good God, Morse” he sighed.

“You can say Dev, Inspector.”

Dev. Fred had always thought there was something about nicknames; they were, after all, bestowed out of affection and endearment. “Dev, then.”

He could have sworn that the lad’s hand tightened around his glass for a fraction of a second, but he couldn’t be sure. “It’s not that different from regular police work, really” he then said, but somehow Fred had the feeling he was forcing himself to be calmer than he actually was.

“So you deal with supernatural creatures?”

He nodded. “It won’t affect our work in any way – sir.” Fred noticed the slight hesitation at the end of his sentence but it was understandable. He hadn’t come out tonight as Constable Morse; he’d gone out as the Captain of the Guard.

“Ah, Peter” he said suddenly, and indeed, the sergeant stepped up to them only a moment later. “I take it Mr. Turner is safe and well?”

He nodded. “Sally just went to call his wife.”

“Good work. A pint?”

Jakes surprised Fred by asking, “Is everything alright here?” His eyes darted from Morse to Fred and back again.

“Of course it is. Get a drink.”

The look he shot Morse – Dev – was decidedly unimpressed, but he complied.

“So – is it normal for you to be chasing werewolves around Oxford?”

“A quiet night, really” Morse answered.

“Well, we had two crossroad incidents earlier” Jakes reminded him, returning with his drink.

He shrugged. “Not our fault if people are stupid enough to try and make deals with demons.”

Demons. Werewolves. The supernatural. And his bagman, who wasn’t quite who Fred had believed he was. “Everything under control, then?” he asked, and in the next few moments, it became strikingly clear that Jakes had no idea who to answer first until Morse nodded at him and he turned to Fred.

“Yes, sir. No problem, really.”

“I assume all of this is to be kept a secret?” he turned to Morse.

“It’d really be best for all concerned, Inspector.”

And then he realized something else that had been rubbing him the wrong way. Usually, Morse’s accent was as pristine and clear as any Oxford don’s; now and then, when he had been very exhausted or injured, he had slipped into a Lincolnshire dialect. But this… this sounded a bit different. He couldn’t quite place it, but he had definitely heard it before, no, he could swear he knew it very well indeed –

“We should go. The paperwork, sir” Jakes said and it took Fred a moment to realize he was speaking to Morse and not to him.

Moreover, he got the impression that Jakes was trying to get Morse away from here.

It was rather unsettling to realize that the sergeant he’d been working with for close to three years now knew exactly where his loyalty lay, and it was not with Fred.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming, Dad” he shot out, sounding bafflingly bitter; it didn’t surprise Fred when Jakes winced. “Sorry, Inspector.”

He nodded. “Take care, you two.”

“We always do.”

Jakes had at least the honesty to look sceptical.

“And please, like I said, don’t tell anyone. Not even Mrs. Thursday. Some things are meant to be kept in the dark.”

This time, Fred was sure he wasn’t mistaken; the look Jakes shot Morse was unmistakably one that spoke of uttermost concern.

He nodded and they slipped away.

* * *

As soon as they were out of earshot, Peter lit a cigarette. “Dev –“

“Don’t, Peter.”

“But –“

“What good would it do to talk about it?”

He watched him carefully as they strode down the street.

“I just thought you might –“ he began eventually.

“Well, I don’t” he spat. Then, a moment later, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Not when it comes to _this_. Other things, though…”

A wry smile. “Ah, you didn’t like me going up against Mr. Turner alone?”

“That’s a bloody understatement, and you know it.”

At first, Dev said nothing, then he exhaled. “I’m sorry.”

And yet he would do it again if he felt it was necessary. Peter knew that well enough. “It’s going to happen again, isn’t it” he said, his words sounding tight. They both knew they were not talking about the werewolf, or Dev’s method of going at it alone.

If only. It would have been so much easier.

“Haven’t we learned by now that some things are doomed to repeat themselves?” he asked.

He did his best to sound cheerful, but Peter saw right through it.

It would happen again, and it would be a bloody mess, as always.

He didn’t mind having to pick up the pieces. He had done so before, and he always would.

What worried him was that every single time, there was a chance that Dev wouldn’t come back from it.

“This is taking too long” he decided and drew a hex bag out of his coat. Peter understood that their talk was at an end.

Dev lit it up and threw it against the wall, creating an unobtrusive door that would be gone the second they stepped through it to get to their headquarters.

They did.

* * *

At first, nothing changed, despite the fact that everything had. Despite his offer to use a nickname, Morse tended to look somewhat strangely wistful when he did so, which had Fred caused to go back to Morse early on.

Fred watched his two officers, but there was nothing to indicate that Jakes and Morse were any closer than they had always appeared to be.

Ten years, Morse had said. So they had been play-acting all the time? It was difficult to believe, but it must be so.

Granted, now and then, they slipped up. One day, Jakes threw another barb at Morse in the car and when Thursday looked in the rear-view mirror, he saw his bagman trying to hold back laughter, and from the corner if his eye, it was quite clear to see that Jakes himself had trouble keeping a straight face.

He was tempted to speak to Morse of it many times, mostly when he picked him up in the mornings and didn’t act any different than he had before. And yet – and yet – he was the Captain of the Guard, an organization that Fred had never heard of and probably would have found no trace of if he had tried.

Still.

Mostly, things went on as normal.

Until they didn’t, anymore.

They were called out on a case. A man had been found dead near the banks of the Oxford river.

Thursday and Morse had been at court, so the others were already there.

As soon as Morse got out of the car, he stiffened. Before Fred could ask, Jakes strolled up to them, frowning. “I was hoping I was mistaken.”

But Morse was shaking his head. “You weren’t.” He turned to Fred. “I am sorry, Inspector, but it is very probable that this is one of our cases.”

“You mean the Guard?”

Morse nodded. “You learn to feel it.”

“Cold spots” Jakes added. “Should I check the immediate neighbourhood for signs?”

“Yes. Be careful, though.”

“Because you always are.”

“That’s quite something else, and you know it.”

Jakes grumbled something that sounded like “Not to me”, but still moved away.

Morse strolled towards the body determinedly, then seemed to remember something. “Peter!”

He turned around. “Sir?”

It felt utterly bizarre to hear him call Morse that.

“I meant what I said about being careful. Ten minutes and I am coming to get you.”

He smiled. “Sir.” And then he set out to do what he’d said to do.

Strange and Trewlove looked utterly confused, and even Doctor DeBryn seemed intrigued. “Morse, have you been promoted since I saw you last or –“

And then, to their amazement, Morse fished gloves out of his pocket and dropped on his knees next to the body. “No, I’ve been Captain for a while now” he replied absent-mindedly as he checked the victim for – well, Fred supposed the “signs” he’d been talking about.  

“May I, Doctor?”

“Be my guest” he replied while watching Morse closely.

As he was going through the victim’s pockets, Strange said, “Sir, what’s going on?”

Trewlove looked like she had waited for him to ask the question.

“Seems like we have a magical case on our hands, and that’s in the jurisdiction of the Guard” Fred tried to explain what he himself didn’t understand yet.

Strange blinked. “Magical? As in wands and pulling coins from behind kiddies’ ears?”

“I wish, Sergeant” Morse said just as he seemed to find what he was looking for. “Ah.” He pulled out a small bag from what appeared to be the man’s inner pocket not unlike the one he had burned before telling Fred about magical creatures. “Strange, could you call Jakes back? He won’t find anything. We’ve got an evil witch on our hands.”

Strange moved automatically, then remembered and looked at Fred.

He nodded.

If they were indeed working a magical case, they would need the goodwill of the Captain of the Guard – even if he happened to be his bagman of several years’ standing.


	3. Chapter 3

Strange quickly came back with Jakes in tow. “A hex bag?”

Morse held it up. “Surely looks like it. We haven’t had to deal with an evil witch for a while, and they’ve never killed so openly before.”

“Rather unusual, that they’d risk non-magical people finding out” Jakes agreed as Morse stood up and allowed him to inspect the bag properly.

“We’ll have to talk to the Council, to make sure they understand that the case –“

“Oy” Fred said, “I suppose there’s no chance or hope for shared jurisdiction?”

For some reason, Jakes looked like he most definitely wanted to object, but Morse beat him to it. “If you wish, Inspector. You are aware that this would be under my leadership, however? No offense, but we’re well-versed in the occult, so to speak.”

Again, that difference in his accent that Thursday couldn’t quite make out. “I understand that, but I still think we should be working the case. And I rather think Superintendent Bright will agree.”

Morse looked at him, then, and for a second, he thought he’d refuse, but instead, he nodded sharply. “Like I said, I’ll have to tell the Chairman of the Council.”

“The Chairman of the…” it took him a second to catch on. “Ah. Someone has to take care of the administrative side of things, don’t they.”

Another short nod. “Peter, there’s a telephone booth down the street – this week’s code –“

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it” he said, brushing past him.

Silence descended on them before Strange said, “I rather think there’s something you ought to tell us, matey."

Fred could only agree.

* * *

“A secret police force in my city?” Bright asked, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Dealing with magical incidents?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I would have thought my contacts with the Council would have apprised me of something like this happening.” Fred felt that it wasn’t the time to ask and held his tongue. “Well, well, well, and Morse is their captain. I have to say they could have made a worse choice, at least.” Eventually, he added, “And working the case with them won’t be a problem?”

“I don’t think so. Everyone here knows Morse and Jakes well enough, and they seem to be rather professional.”

“Good, good. Keep me appraised, then.”

All in all, things really could have been going much worse, Fred reflected. But why did he feel so uneasy then?

* * *

By the time he returned to the squad room, it had become the centre of activity, with several people he’d never seen before putting up the pictures taken at the crime scene. Jakes was supervising them.

“Inspector” he said. “Dev has gone to speak to the Chairman, just to make sure there are no hiccups.”

“Left you in charge, has he?” It sounded a bit harsher than he had intended, but Jakes took it in stride.

“As long as the Captain’s not there, the Commander is the officer responsible that everything goes smoothly, yes.”

Military ranks then, like Fred had suspected. Royal Navy, in fact. “Mind introducing us, then?”

“Of course not.” There was something different about Jakes, too; he seemed more relaxed, more open then Fred had ever seen him before.

“This is Lieutenant Sally Ford” he introduced the young woman Fred remembered from when they had dealt with the werewolf.

“And those are Sergeants Richard Haddon and Matthew Foster”.

“Only three?”

Jakes chuckled. “We do have quite a few more people at our disposal, but Dev thought it might be best to just bring a core team here, for now.”

The seamless change between Dev and Captain whenever he talked of Morse made Fred suspect that they were indeed rather close. But then, Morse had told him they had known each other for ten years.

“Would you mind if Sally just skipped down to the morgue? She’ll be able to let us know when exactly he died.”

“Somewhat of an expert, are you, Lieutenant?” Fred asked as she stepped up to them.

“Yes, Inspector. I’m a banshee.”

He blinked. “A banshee?” he hoped he didn’t sound impolite.

“Yes. I will be able to narrow down his time of death. It’s something of a speciality.”

“As long as Doctor DeBryn doesn’t have anything against it…”

She nodded and left. Belatedly, he wondered how she knew where the morgue was, but that was a question for another day. “We still have to identify him” he said, stepping up to the white board. “Someone has to miss him.”

It was at this moment that Morse entered the room. “The Chairman agreed that it would be best if we handle this together. And after being told, the mayor’s given us permission to work with the police force. Thank God.” He made no attempt to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

Fred was a little bit more preoccupied with the fact that he was wearing the coat he’d last seen on the night he learned the supernatural existed, and a hat he was busy hanging up at the moment. “Anything new?”

“Not yet. Sally’s gone to the morgue” Jakes reported, and Morse nodded, straightening his suit.

All those times Fred had told him to take better care of his wardrobe, and he’d done that all along.

“I assume we don’t know who he is, yet?”

Jakes nodded.

Morse was busy studying the evidence.

“Any idea how long the body’s been there?” Fred asked, deciding he might as well do his best to work the case as if it was a normal one for them.

Jakes pocked up a piece of paper from his desk. “According to the man who found him – he walks his dog there mornings and nights, you see – it wasn’t there yesterday evening, sir.”

Fred reached out for the witness statement at the same time as Morse.

When their hands touched, his bagman looked at him and then laughed, although to Fred’s ears, it sounded somewhat forced. “Alright, here’s the plan. No one call me sir while we’re working this case, alright?”

The answers of Haddon and Foster consisted of “Sure thing, boss” and “Alright, oh Captain, my Captain” while Jakes simply shrugged and said, “If you want, Dev.”

“I deserved that” he sighed, allowing Fred to snatch up the statement.

It was at this moment that Jakes looked over Fred’s shoulder and excused himself.

“Anything else in the statement we need to know?” Morse asked.

Fred shook his head.

“Captain?” Jakes sounded taunt.

They turned to find him and Sally standing in front of them, both looking concerned.

“What is it?” Morse asked immediately.

“I know him. The victim. He’s Mark Waters. He’s got a magic shop on Merton Street.”

A magic shop. Dear God.

Still, Fred failed to see why they looked so concerned. A magic user being murdered by magical means was hardly –

“What?” Morse asked sharply.

“Dev” Jakes answered quietly.

“Why is that so shocking?” Strange piped up.

“Magic users know better than to try and harm others using magic” Jakes said, rather quickly, as Fred thought. “They know most people are well protected, plus, it’s a dead giveaway that makes us come running. So it’s much more likely that the murderer doesn’t perform spells et cetera unless it comes to harming others who do.”

Morse looked at him then, and Fred was taken aback. He had never seen such open revulsion, such pure hatred in his eyes.

“Which means” he spat, “it must be _them_.”

**Thirty-three years ago**

**Her eyes were brimming with tears. “I’m so sorry.”**

**“It’s not your fault, Connie” he said, feeling helpless. Here he was, about to go to war, and a girl he hadn’t seen in – was it seven or eight months? – came to him heavily pregnant, claiming she was about to have his child.**

**No. Not _claiming_. Connie wouldn’t lie to him, he was sure of that. **

**Oh God. What would his parents say? And then – he wasn’t a free man, anymore. There was someone he hoped would wait for him, someone he prayed would agree to marry him after the war…**

**“I – I didn’t know what else to do” she sniffed. “I don’t want to marry that man as my parents tell me to, but I want to do the best for our child.”**

**Our child. He tentatively reached out. “May I?”**

**She nodded through her tears.**

**When he felt the kick against his hand, his breath hitched. “He’s strong, isn’t he?”**

**“Might be a girl.”**

**“I don’t know, feels like a boy.”**

**She patted his hand away with that playfulness of hers he’d always liked so much. “Oh, of course. One strong kick, and it has to be a boy.”**

**“Constance –“ he said quietly. “Does anyone know you’re here?”**

**She shook her head. “My parents wouldn’t have allowed me to contact you.”**

**“I see.” He took a deep breath. “Well, mine can put you up for the night, and then we’ll find a way to…” he didn’t quite know how to finish the sentence.**

**She smiled again, rather weakly this time. “That’s all I was hoping for.”**

* * *

**His parents were rather no-nonsense about it all, as he had hoped they would be. Dad only sighed and muttered, “Could have waited” while Mum immediately set about to make Connie comfortable.**

**All that was left for him to do right now was to tell the girl he was rather sure was the love of his life that he would have a child by someone else, and that if she wanted, he would… he would…**

**He didn’t know what he would do. All he knew was that he was about to have a child. A _child_. **

**He hadn’t expected to have children for at least a couple of years yet, war or no war.**

**The firm where she worked as a secretary thankfully allowed visits from “gentleman callers” during lunch break.**

**She knew immediately something was wrong when he picked her up. “What happened?”**

**“Let’s sit down.”**

**They did so in the park. He couldn’t look at her as he told her. She knew about Constance, of course; there’d been no reason to hide the fact that he’d had a girlfriend before her.**

**Her first reaction was a quiet “Oh.”**

**“I – I don’t know what to do” he admitted. “It depends on Connie, I expect. And I cannot – I cannot ask you to –“**

**She took his hand. “Let’s go and see her.”**

**“Are you sure?”**

**“We have to deal with this” she said firmly. “Poor girl. She must have been through hell.”**

**The “poor girl” was barely younger than her, but he didn’t mention it.**

**As they made their way through the streets of London, she didn’t let go of his hand once. It filled him with hope.**

* * *

**“Like I said, I just want what’s best for them, and I don’t think that’s being with me” Connie said. She wasn’t crying anymore.**

**“Are you sure, dear?” Mum asked gently. “It’s a lot to ask, giving up your child.”**

**“My parents would make me marry someone I don’t want, and it would grow up in a house without love. I don’t want that.” She turned to him and his girlfriend. “I’d like them to have a loving home, and if the feeling I have is right…” she trailed off.**

**“That settles it, then” the woman he loved declared and for a moment, dread settled in his stomach, but she simply turned to him and said, “We’ll have to get married a little earlier than we planned. So I can take care of him or her. If…” she looked at Connie, who nodded.**

**“I really think it _would_ be best for the child.” She looked pale but determined, and Constance had always proven true to her name, as he knew well. **

**It seemed, he reflected, like things had got settled for him. But on the other hand, it was the best turn of events he could have expected.**

* * *

**They were married two weeks later in a London already preparing for war. Connie was in attendance, smiling as happily as she could.**

**As he kissed his new wife, he could only pray that all would be well.**

* * *

**By sheer luck, Connie’s water broke two days before he was being shipped off to fight the Germans. She had insisted on going through labour alone; he only understood why when he and his wife entered the room to find her holding her son, having carefully wiped her face to hide her tears even though her red eyes gave her away.**

**“You’ll let me know how he is, from time to time, won’t you?” was her greeting.**

**He could only nod.**

**She looked down at the baby. “My little Endeavour.”**

**Endeavour? He couldn’t begrudge her the right to name their son, but by God…**

**“Would you like to hold him?”**

**Connie showed him how, and then his first child was lying in his arms.**

**His first child.**

**He hadn’t known that it was possible to experience so many feelings at once.**

**“Hey” he said softly. Two tiny eyes opened and stared at him.**

**“Hey, Dev” he continued spontaneously. Might as well give him a nickname he could actually live with. “So help you God, but I’m your Dad.”**

**He looked up to find both Connie and his wife smiling at him with tears in their eyes.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second proper chapter and I already feel like the big plot twist is a bit too obvious... oh well, hope you enjoy regardless!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a small cameo of my most beloved OC in here because... well... I couldn't help myself. Enjoy!

“I have to check out the body once more. Make sure we haven’t overlooked anything. Doctor DeBryn will have started with the autopsy…”

“Dev –“ Jakes began.

“Not now, Peter. I’ll be in the morgue”. And he stormed out.

“For God’s sake, don’t let him go there alone” Sally hissed, apparently forgetting all about ranks as they watched their boss storm off, and Jakes only nodded as he prepared to rush after him.

“Wait a second, Sergeant –“ Fred began but he interrupted him before he could finish the sentence.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t. It’s not my story to tell.”

And then he was gone, too.

None of the other members of the Guard would meet his eyes.

* * *

“Dev! Dev, wait!”

He didn’t stop.

_“Endeavour!”_

He eventually forced himself to stop walking. Peter grabbed his arm. “You can’t do this.”

“I can’t? I have to! If it’s _them_ –“

“We don’t know that yet” he said carefully.

Dev knew he was right, of course. Just like he had been every other time they had encountered the possibility that it might be…

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true.”

They smiled at one another them, but neither of them was feeling any mirth. “You want to accompany me to the morgue?”

“If it’s no trouble, sir.”

“It never is.”

As they walked down the corridor, Peter asked, “Do you think there’s a chance –“

“Not yet.” He’d know. He always did.

Peter nodded. “Sally said he’d been dead for about twelve hours.”

“Means he died when the moon rose” Dev said. “Makes sense. They like their symbolism.” He knew he sounded bitter, but couldn’t help it.

“For what it’s worth” Peter supplied, “I’ve never seen Strange or Trewlove that confused before.”

This time, their smiles were genuine.

* * *

Doctor DeBryn was waiting for them when they arrived. “Ah. Captain Morse and Commander Jakes, if I am correct?”

Peter desperately hoped he didn’t notice Dev’s flinch. “Yes.”

He nodded. “Here to see the body?”

Dev was already moving towards it.

“I assume you don’t need a glass of water?” he asked simply.

“No, I’m used to the sight, really.”

“I always wondered” was his only reply. “There are some markings on the body that I hoped you could help me make sense of.”

“Markings?” Dev asked.

“Here.” He drew back the sheet the body had been covered with. “I can’t be entirely sure, but this looks like an ankh to me. He must have been lying on it for quite some time, otherwise it wouldn’t have impressed itself on its skin…”

Peter swallowed.

“Oh yes, Doctor” Dev said quietly, in that tone of his that meant whoever he would be going after was about to have a rather difficult time. “He was lying on it for quite some time. Even before he died.” He looked at Peter. “Explains why he didn’t find the hex bag. They must have kept him from throwing it away.”

“I’m sorry?” the doctor asked.

“Well-known torture spells” Peter quickly told him. “The ankh held him in place, and the rest…” he trailed off.

“Ah. I see.”

Peter doubted he understood the enormity of it, but this wasn’t the time to explain.

“They have been outlawed in the magical community for centuries” Dev explained, sounding detached.

Peter knew him well enough to be certain this meant he was anything but.

“I can easily imagine that. He would have been in pain?”

“In great pain.”

Peter wondered if he, too, was thinking of a dreary room and voices in the dark… “It _is_ them” he said resignedly.

“Was there any doubt about that?” Dev asked.

No, there hadn’t been, not really; just like his boss and friend, Peter had felt the truth in his bones, but had desperately hoped that things would turn out differently this time.

And add to that the fact that –

He couldn’t let himself think of it. Dev would have been able to read it in his eyes. “We have to tell the others.”

He hummed. “I should probably apologise, too” he admitted. “I don’t think I was very polite before storming off.”

“Not really.”

A weak smile was all the answer he got.

“I think it will be best if I come with you” Doctor DeBryn announced, “It seems like this is the sort of thing one should know about.”

That, Peter thought, was a bloody understatement.

* * *

Superintendent Bright was with the others when they returned. Sally didn’t have to ask. She took one look at them and knew.

“I have to apologise, sir” Dev said immediately. “I didn’t mean to –“

“It’s quite alright, Morse” DI Thursday answered, “But what was it you found?”

Dev took a pen from his desk and drew the Ankh on the white board. “This was on the body of Mark Waters. It means someone used a spell to keep him in place before he died – he couldn’t move at all – and most likely tortured him as well.”

DI Thursday cursed softly under his breath.

“It has been brought to my attention that you have certain suspicions as to who is responsible for this” Superintendent Bright said. “May I ask what those suspicions are?”

“There is a group that has been trying for decades to eradicate every single trace of magic in the UK” Dev began. “They call themselves the Army of Morality. They just want to get rid of every single magic user they can find. They stop at nothing, and they don’t care how much pain they inflict on others.”

Silence fell.

It was Strange who spoke first. “No offense, mat – Captain, but you sound rather bitter.”

“I have every reason to be.” Dev’s smile wasn’t cheerful. “They took my family away from me when I was eighteen years old.”

**Fifteen years ago**

_Morse was the name that had appeared on his driving licence, the one Dad had been so proud of him for getting._

_Only he didn’t remember. Because he wasn’t his Dad anymore, and Mum wasn’t his mother, and his siblings weren’t his siblings._

_He was called Endeavour_ Morse _and he was all alone._

_A week ago, he could have gone home; he could have asked for help; and Dad would have been angry and worried and run off to fix everything like he always did, and Mum would have made him dinner, and hugged him and told him everything would be alright and looked after him, and his brother and sister would have clung to him –_

_All that was in the past, now. No, not in the past; it had never been. To his family, he didn’t exist. He was not even as one dead: they would have remembered him then, and mourned. But there was to be no mourning for him._

_He simply was a stranger to them. He’d learned that, over and over. Three times he’d tried, and three times they had remembered him briefly before forgetting again._

_No more. He had to lay low, and try his best to reverse the spell._

_But he couldn’t do it here. It didn’t matter that his scholarship had survived the magic that had eradicated his life; he couldn’t stay in Oxford, where everything reminded him of them and he had a chance to run into one of them every second of the day._

_He’d go to London. He’d spent the first few years of his life there, it was true, but Oxford had been his home for a long time now._

_He needed the emptiness only a city full of people could provide._

* * *

_London_ was _big. And empty._

_And it didn’t help one bit._

_He’d somehow managed to beg for the train fare to the capital, and then almost hadn’t made it onto the train because his clothes looked like he’d spent the last week sleeping in them._

_Because it was true. He’d slept in the streets; he hadn’t had a good meal since he left his home for what he hadn’t then known would be the last time._

_All he had left was an empty wallet with his driver’s license and his new name, and the key._

_They key Dad had given him when they had moved into their house. He wore it on a piece of string around his neck so he could touch it when he needed a reminder that his life had been real, that his family had been real. Sometimes he doubted his own sanity._

_But it_ had _been real. And then they had come and taken everything away from him, just because he hadn’t agreed to help them rid Britain of magic._

_It wasn’t fair._

_It just wasn’t fair._

_London hadn’t changed much in the years he had been gone, and sometimes, he stole to the flat they had once lived in with Gran and Gramps and just stood there, staring up at the windows._

_Years later, he would think that if it hadn’t been for_ her _, he would have died then._

_It was night, and he was dumpster diving behind a restaurant near their old flat._

_Then, a quiet voice said, “Someone did this to you.”_

_He turned around to find a young woman with very old eyes looking at him. Water was cascading down her white dress._

_Maybe he should have been scared, but he no longer had the energy to._

_“Hello” she said pleasantly. “I’m Mel. I’m a water wraith.”_

* * *

_Having magic had never meant much to Dev. Somewhat after his fourteenth birthday, he’d realized he could do what he had then called little “tricks”; and if Mum hadn’t caught him entertaining his little brother and sister with them, he probably would never have realized that he could perform spells._

_His parents had understood, and they had made sure he had the training to keep his powers under control. Other than that, they had told him it was his decision._

_By then, Dev had already decided what he wanted to be when he grew up. First, he’d get a degree, and then he’d join Dad in the police force. He’d always wished to do so, ever since he could remember._

_So, really, magic had just been a thing he was good at but didn’t particularly need._

_And then they had come and had told him he had to help eradicate it from the face of the earth, and he had declined and had believed that had been that, but instead they had taken his family away._

_Mel was the first one he told, and maybe the only one in this great city who actually believed him._

_Or so he thought at the time._

_“You need to go to the Council” she told him when he was finished._

_“The Council?”_

_She nodded. “They have places for people like you – those who were harmed by malignant magic and need help.”_

_He hadn’t known that._

_“That’s because they don’t teach the important things” she sighed, and he belatedly realized that she’d answered his thoughts._

_She told him the address. “I’m afraid I can’t come with you; they come to me when they need something. I can’t be out of the water for too long, you see.”_

_He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”_

_“Mel will be quiet enough.”_

_She reached out and touched his cheek. “Don’t give up hope, Endeavour. There is always a silver lining.”_

_It should have felt like an empty platitude, but instead it actually made him feel better._

_In the next moment she was gone, and he took a deep breath._

_Orme Passage Nr. 13. That was where she had told him to go._

_It was more of a plan he’d had for the last two weeks, and so he did._

* * *

_When he arrived, he didn’t know what to do, so he simply knocked on the bland brown door of the house._

_To his surprise, it was opened by a butler. “Yes, sir?”_

_He shuffled his feet. “Good evening. A water wraith told me to come here – her name’s Mel.”_

_The butler nodded. “I see. And the reason for that would be?”_

_“I – I think a malevolent spell was placed on me, and she agreed.”_

_“Very well. Come in.”_

_He stepped aside._

_Dev’s heart was beating rapidly. He was entering a world he had never seen before._

_He did what Dad had taught him to do, took a deep breath and soldiered on._


	5. Chapter 5

The silence that followed was deafening, as Peter – and Dev – had both known that it would be.

“I’m sorry?” Trewlove eventually ventured forth. “Did you just say your family was –“

“Oh, nothing as simply as murder, I assure you” Dev said dryly. “It just happens that I have a few hidden talents.” He grabbed one of the files on his desk and threw it in the air, mumbling a few words; it stuck there. “I can do magic, you see, and they decided a long time ago that any magic user who doesn’t want to get rid off it is on the wrong side, so they tried to recruit me, and when I wasn’t interested…” He cleared his throat. “The spell went wrong. Should have wiped me off the face of the earth; instead it only made my family forget all about me. Mum, Dad, two siblings. I could be looking them right in the face and they wouldn’t know me. Well, it was a long time ago.”

As if that mattered.

“But don’t you have a sister, matey?” Strange asked, unconsciously slipping back into the way he usually talked to Dev around the station. “I remember her phoning and –“

“Oh yes, the spell did a very good job” Dev shrugged. “It makes you believe what you already consider the most logical circumstances. At the beginning, I myself almost doubted I’d ever known them in the first place.” Peter remembered those times very well; even when they had met, Dev had still been struggling with what had happened. His clipped tone made it clear that he considered the topic dealt with, although of course it wouldn’t be that easy. It never was. “So, now we strongly suspect the Soldiers of Morality are involved, we have to…”

“Lad –“ DI Thursday interrupted him automatically. “Are you sure you’re not too close to –“

“Oh, I am definitely toon close, but I also happen to be the best there is, so I am working this case, no matter what. Sally – we’ll need to send a message to the Council. Now –“

“I think” Superintendent Bright interrupted him, “We need to talk. Captain, Thursday? Would you join me in my office?”

“Of course. Peter, can you handle this?”

He nodded. Dev squeezed his shoulder on his way to the door. “Thank you.”

At first, no one said anything. Then Strange announced, “This was rather unexpected.”

Peter decided it was rather an understatement.

* * *

Dear God.

It was one thing to learn that magic existed. Really, in Oxford, anything was possible, as Fred had learned long ago; and it certainly explained a few strange occurrences he could remember.

But Morse…

Making Morse’s family forget about him. And him a lad of only eighteen, suddenly all alone in the world.

He must have felt like the ground had crumbled from underneath his feet.

Paradoxically, he wasn’t just angry at this Army, whoever they may be; no, he was somewhat annoyed at the lad’s family too. Spell or no spell, how could you forget one of your own flesh and blood?

“So, Captain” Bright began as soon as he had sat down.

“Dev is quite alright, Superintendent; I already told Inspector Thursday.”

He nodded as he lit up a cigarette. “What exactly does this… Army of Morality _do_? I am aware of their goals, but… it strikes me as somewhat contradictory that they would use magic against magic users.”

Morse smiled wryly. “The idea is that those who are unfortunate enough to be born with this… affliction are supposed to refrain from using it. The next generation should then ben born without a speck of magic in them. It’s idiotic, of course, but fanatism always is.”

“I see.” Bright blew smoke around the room. “And the magical community? How do they react to the threat? All I have ever heard about the Army are rumours, and I _do_ have my connections.”

“We try not to let it be known. Mostly we don’t speak of it, not even amongst ourselves. There are enough prejudices about us as far as people without magic are concerned without… them ruining our image, as the Council would say.”

“So you do have close connections to the Council?”

“I would have to, wouldn’t I, Superintendent.”

It was clearly a polite way of telling him he wouldn’t share any more, and Bright accepted it. “So what do you propose?”

“We have to be careful, sir.” This back and forth between Morse being his own officer of quite a different branch and their co-worker was going to give them all whiplash eventually, Fred thought morosely. “Up until now, they have surfaced sporadically, and we dealt with them, but there has never been such an open attack.”

“You mean they haven’t killed before?”

“I mean they haven’t acted in a way that non-magical people would notice. This is troubling.” Morse paused. “I am sure the Chairman of the Council will agree with me.”

There was something in his voice that suggested they were more than just an officer of a special branch of the police and the leader of the creatures of Oxford to one another. Fred stored the information away for later.

“In that case, we will have to tread carefully” Bright decided.

Morse nodded. “that would be the best way, yes.”

Normally, Fred would have made a quip about how he believed Morse had never trod carefully in his life; but this was not the constable he knew so well. No, this was the Captain of the Guard, highly professional, with enough experiment under his belt to weather any problems thrown his way.

“Peter will have explained all of this to the others as we spoke” he told Fred as they walked back to the squad room. “We have to identify the victim and make sure nothings’ happened to his family. Then we need to figure out how he caught the attention of the Army…” He trailed off, and Fred wondered if he, too, was thinking of a young boy, now long gone, who had done nothing to deserve it, and had woken up one day to find his family didn’t recognize him anymore.

**Thirty-three years ago**

**Being a father had barely felt real when he had held his son in his arms for the first time, so it was probably not to be expected that it would once he was in the trenches.**

**Still, at night, they talked.**

**“You got anyone back home waiting for you?” Williams asked.**

**He nodded. “My wife, and a little chap.”**

**“How old?”**

**“He was born two days before I was deployed.”**

**Williams grimaced. “That can’t be easy.”**

**It wasn’t. His wife somehow managed to send him pictures regularly, and she did write about Dev in her letters constantly, and yet it didn’t seem true. He had simply not planned on becoming a father so early in life, and it just didn’t feel right.**

**He kept his doubts to himself. Deb didn’t deserve that, and Connie, who had given him up so he’d have a better chance at life, definitely didn’t, either.**

**“He’s cute. Got your chin” Williams told him when he showed him the newest picture. After that, he spent quite some time studying it. When Dev had been born, he’d been too busy figuring out if he was ecstatic or scared to look at him in that way; but now that Williams had pointed it out…**

**He really _did_ have his chin. And somehow, he could already tell that the little chap would have Connie’s eyes eventually. **

**His wife’s letters were usually cheerful, but that didn’t mean much; of course she would try and make him feel better while he was at war. That didn’t mean he didn’t worry about her, of course. She’d been looking forward to eventually settling down and talking about kiddies before having them, and now she was stranded with her husband’s baby while his parents did their best to look after them both as well as each other.**

**And yet…**

**Looking at Dev’s picture, it slowly became difficult to remember that he’d ever wanted things to go differently.**

* * *

**Time passed differently in the war. Sometimes he felt that all he had to prove that the years were passing were the pictures of Dev he received; the baby he remembered had turned into an adorable toddler with big curious eyes who, as she had reported in her letters, had started to speak at seven and a half months, rather early, really, loved listening to music, never stopped asking questions and seemed to be the utter delight of his grandparents.**

**Sometimes, in the trenches of Italy and France, the pictures and letters were all he had to cling to.**

**And then it was time to go home.**

* * *

**The few holidays he’d been allowed had not been enough time to get to know their son, naturally. He’d only ever just managed to make Dev trust him enough to interact with him properly right before he got shipped off again. And so, it was only to be expected that the soon to be six-year-old – dear God, he’d left a baby and now he was going to go to _school_ soon –  who was nipping at his wife’s heels at the train station had little to no concept of what the term “Dad” actually entailed. **

**Not that he blamed him.**

**He didn’t really know what it meant to be one, either.**

* * *

**Living with his parents helped him slowly come to terms with having returned from the war, and so did his wife. He had no idea why she put up with him, really.**

**“Oh, don’t be silly” was all she said when he tried to tell her. “I love you, and I love our Dev.”**

**They had grown into a unit while he had been away; he couldn’t count how often he’d heard him call out “Mummy!” on his first day back home alone.**

**He did the best he could not too feel jealous or left out.**

**She seemed to sense what was going on because she suddenly kissed him. “It will be alright, you see. We just need a little time to get used to things.”**

* * *

**The first time he really, truly felt like a dad was about a month after he’d returned. She’d gone out to get the groceries after putting Dev to bed, claiming she wanted a bit of fresh air – he was ready to bet she also wanted to get out for a while, and who could blame her – and he was listening to the radio when he heard the sound of little feet prattling up to him.**

**He turned his head to find Dev standing there, looking scared.**

**“Hey, what’s wrong, son?”**

**He mumbled something that sounded like “the monster in my closet”. He didn’t really know how to react to that, but decided the best way was to get up and scoop him in his arms. “A monster?”**

**He nodded and buried his head in his shoulder.**

**He thought quickly. The last thing he wanted was his son being embarrassed about coming to him when he was scared. “You do remember where I work, really?”**

**“Police” he mumbled against his shirt.**

**“Yes, and you know what we do, right?”**

**He looked up, his eyes wide and clear, and really, a little too knowing for someone who hadn’t even learned to ride a bike yet. “You put bad guys away?” he ventured.**

**“That’s right. So what’s one little monster?”**

**He giggled at that, and he decided this was an encouraging response.**

**“Come on, then. Let’s go monster hunting.”**

**After a thorough inspection of his room and the repeated assurance that no monster would have made it past him, Dev calmed down and allowed him to read him a story before going back to sleep.**

**He thought he’d drifted off and surprised himself by leaning down to kiss his forehead.**

**Just as he was stepping over the threshold of his room, he mumbled, “Love you, Dad.”**

**“Love you too, son” he replied before realizing how very true it was.**

**When she returned from shopping, she found him humming to himself, a smile on his lips.**


	6. Chapter 6

Fred knew he couldn’t let them just go back to the case without talking about the elephant in the room. And so, just as they reached the door to the squad room, he said, “Wait a moment.”

The look Morse bestowed on him could be called resigned at best, and rather annoyed at worst.

“About your family” he began. “I’m sorry.”

An expression he wouldn’t know how to interpret until later crossed Morse’s face, then he shrugged with forced indifference. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters.”

“No, it doesn’t” he said bluntly, “Because, like I said, I could be talking to them and they still wouldn’t know who I was – what we used to be to each other. The spell the Army performed was very… thorough. Sometimes, I myself…” he trailed off and pressed a hand against his breast; belatedly, Fred realized he could see a chain peak out from under his collar. He must be carrying some kind of memento of his family. “Most days, I do my best to pretend to myself that they are dead. Because that’s what they are, to me, at least.”

 _But that’s no way of life, lad_ , Fred wanted to say but the decided against it. After all, who was he to tell the lad how to cope with something he’d been forced to endure for – what, fifteen years now? Good God, he’d been _without_ his family for almost as long as he’d been _with_ them.

Just the thought of forgetting one of his children made him shudder. “Is there no way – I mean, have you –“

“Do you really think I haven’t tried everything I and others could think of?” Morse asked flatly. “No, this is how it is. I can’t get them back. It’s hopeless.”

Fred wondered how long it had taken for him to accept that fact, and more than that – he vowed that even if Morse thought there was no way, he would find one. It didn’t matter that he’d kept being the Captain of the Guard from him, or that Fred hadn’t known magic existed until he was close to retirement.

What mattered was that Morse had been robbed off his family, and Fred was going to do everything in his power to learn all there was to know about spells like that and then reverse it.

He deserved it.

* * *

Dev looked calm enough when he and DI Thursday returned. It was all the could have hopped for, really. Not that Peter doubted his ability to stay professional, or didn’t trust his instincts; but when it came to the Army and what they had done to him…

“Anything?” Dev asked.

He shook his head.

“We should probably first figure out how he caught the attention of the Army to begin with.”

“We don’t know if it’s the Army yet for certain, Captain” WPC Trewlove pointed out and for a second, Peter feared –

But of course nothing happened. Dev just looked at her, then nodded. “No we don’t. Of course we don’t.”

Trouble was, they could both feel it in their bones. If he was being honest, Peter had had a bad feeling about this from the start.

He lit a cigarette. Dev threw him a glance. Probably guessed what he had been thinking. He usually did.

* * *

Peter, Dev and DI Thursday went to break the news to Waters’ family. He was driving.

“I suppose they’ll know about magic?” Thursday asked.

“They would have to. It’s not something you can hide, especially when you’re young when you find out” Dev replied. “my family knew.”

“How did they react?”

Good God, did he have to ask? But of course he did. This was DI Fred Thursday they were talking about.

“They were… they sent me to afternoon school to learn and control my powers. And I did. They never – there was never any prejudice, you see. Mum made me dumplings, to show she wasn’t angry at me. And Dad bought me my first textbook on magic.” He sounded wistful.

Thursday wisely chose not to answer.

* * *

Mrs. Mary Waters knew something was wrong the second she opened the door, which wasn’t surprising; both Peter and Dev had seen her on the Council fundraisers before, although they had never spoken to her. “Captain Morse?” Her eyes flitted over to Peter. “Commander Jakes?”

“And DI Thursday, of the Oxford City Police” Dev introduced him. “Can we come in, Mrs. Waters?”

She nodded, her eyes already shining with tears ready to be shed.

* * *

It quickly transpired that no one had had any motive to kill Mark Waters; however, that left them with little to go on, since they didn’t get any evidence pointing in another direction, either. “No, the Army never approached me. I would have reported it, of course, Captain.”

“I don’t doubt that, Mrs. Waters” Morse said softly and Fred realized he must be in an even greater position of authority than he had thought before. “And you are absolutely sure your husband would have told you if they had tried to recruit him?”

She sighed. “Mark and I loved each other, but he had this annoying habit of keeping things from me when he thought they might upset me. So if the Army approached him, he probably wouldn’t – didn’t” she corrected herself and started to weep. Morse was quick to hand her a handkerchief, and she smiled through her tears. “The Chairman always says you are his best man. You’ll find them, and you’ll deal with them?”

“We will try our best” he said firmly.

“That’s all I can – that’s all we can ask for” she said, standing up and walking to the fireplace, where the family pictures were set up. She then surprised them by quietly asking, “The Chairman once alluded to – is it true?”

Morse almost immediately recovered. “Yes.”

She turned around, clutching a picture of her husband and daughter, her face distorting with hatred, her tears gone for the moment. “Make them bleed, Captain. For everything they have done to us.”

Fred didn’t think it was a good promise to make, but he was out of his element. He was no magic user, and he’d never been targeted by one.

Morse stood up and gently removed the picture from her hands, his eyes resting on the two parents holding their laughing child. “I cannot say I will” he said quietly, “But I will do my outmost to ensure that justice is done.”

“That is quite enough for me.”

She then gently touched Morse’s breast and murmured what Fred only belatedly realized was a blessing. “God’s speed, Captain.”

**Fifteen years ago**

_Although he wouldn’t know it until later, the butler must have told the people responsible enough that Dev was shown right into the Chairman’s office. Years down the line, he would still marvel at the fact that he’d been naïve enough to know nothing of the Council or the Chairman._

_“Ah, yes, Mr. Endeavour – Morse, is it now?”_

_He flinched, as usual when someone addressed him by this new name he didn’t feel would ever truly belong to him. “According to my license, yes.”_

_“Please sit down. James has let me know that the circumstances of your case are rather… exceptional.”_

_Of course the butler was called James, he thought distractedly. “I – they – my family doesn’t remember I exist.”_

_“Because for them, you don’t” he told him gently, “Not if the spell worked the way I think it did. Will you allow me…” he trailed off._

_Dev assumed it was some sort of test and nodded._

_“Hold out your hands.”_

_He complied._

_The Chairman took his wrists and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he let his hands fall. “Oh.”_

_“What is it?” Dev asked when he didn’t elaborate._

_“Like I thought, it seems that the Army tried to do away with your very existence with rather ancient magic, but they botched it. So instead –“_

_“My existence_ was _wiped out” he said bitterly. “It doesn’t feel that botched to me.”_

_“I assume it wouldn’t. But, Mr. Morse, there is a big difference. You are alive. You can still fight back.”_

_“I don’t want to fight! I want my family back!”_

_He only realized he’d been shouting after he fell silent, and swallowed. “I am terribly sorry sir, I didn’t mean _”_

_“it’s quite alright, Endeavour – if I may?”_

_“Dev. My family calls me Dev.”_

_“Dev. This is a very malignant spell, and it was sprung at you without warning. And, if you will allow me to say so, you are very young to be dealing with something like this.” He stood up. “We will have to see if there is any way to reverse it. In the meantime, you’ll get a room here. It’s safer.”_

_“Thank you –“_

_“No reason to, Dev. We look after our own.” He touched a button and the butler appeared. “See to it that Dev settles in, will you, James? Have a good meal and some rest. We’ll talk later.”_

_Even after he had been shown up to what he supposed he might now call his room and had been served dinner, Dev didn’t think he’d be able to sleep. But lying down in a comfortable bed for the first time since he’d left home soon did the trick, and when he woke up, he realized he’d slept through the night._

_To his surprise, James had had his clothes washed and ironed, and breakfast was waiting for him next to the door with a note telling him the Council would see him at ten am._

_It was just gone nine, so he had enough time to make sure he looked as presentable as he could manage. If Mum had been there, she would have fussed over his clothes; and Dad would probably have told him to tuck his shirt in better at least three times._

_But they weren’t there._

_When he knocked on the door James had shown him to, the Chairman whose name he still didn’t know called for him to enter._

_Every single member had decided to show up, but he would only learn later how seldom this happened. “Dev.”_

_He nodded. “Chairman…” he trailed off as he looked at the other people in the room._

_“We understand you haven’t had much experience in magical matters” a kindly-looking woman told him. “Sit down.”_

_He complied._

_“Now, you claim your family was taken from you by the Army of Morality, and our Chairman has confirmed your story” a man said in a booming voice._

_He nodded._

_“Is there anything you have left from your home, other than the clothes on your back?”_

_He hesitated._

_“You’ll get it back, of course” the woman who had addressed him before said and he forced himself to take out his key and put it on the table._

_“Ah.” The man with the booming voice took it and examined it. “I assume it has been that cold since the spell took effect?”_

_Dev nodded; it had been the first thing he had noticed. The key had turned so cold it almost burned his skin whenever he touched it, but he didn’t care. It was all he had left._

_“Hm.” The members of the Council exchanged glances that seemed rather ill-boding to Dev. “To have a physical reminder of the spell… It means this_ is _old magic” the man continued and he couldn’t help but think that he had already known that._

_“But why would they use magic if they are against it?” he burst out. This time, the looks he received were obviously full of pity._

_Years later, he would understand. Then, he almost hated them for it._

_“It’s always easier to get rid off something when you understand how it works” the woman told him._

_“Can you reverse it?” he asked, then realized he’d perhaps sounded too demanding. “I am sorry. I don’t meant to – I don’t know –“_

_“Don’t worry about it” The Chairman interrupted him, “You will learn in time.”_

_He didn’t quite know how to tell him that that was what he was afraid of._

_And it turned out to be true._

_For, as transpired in the next days, weeks and months, he would have all the time he needed to learn about the customs of those who had magic._

_Because Dev wasn’t destined to go home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Yes, we are still hanging on to the plot twist NO ONE can see coming, obviously ;).  
> 2\. I have an appointment at uni this week about my diss and my anxiety is skyrocketing, so leave a comment to distract me, please?


	7. Chapter 7

Jim was used to strange occurrences. He could hardly have failed to be so, considering he worked with Morse.

Still, finding out that both him and Jakes also were in some secret police force was rather weird, all things considered.

Sally – or Lieutenant Ford, as she had been introduced to them – was currently busy going through the evidence again. “This all happened very fast. His wife didn’t even have the time to report him missing. They must have grabbed him when he left work yesterday, or even earlier.”

“You’re the expert, Sal” Richard cheerfully supplied. It had taken Jim a while to realize the psychic was just always cheerful, and that it had nothing to do with the case.

“Yes, but still… this troubles me. It’s out in the open. It’s like a declaration of war.” Her voice sank. “And we all know the Captain’s not exactly… objective when it comes to them.”

“I wouldn’t be” Jim said. “Not if they made my family forget I exist.”

“I think he could have lived with that, too” she said carefully. “What’s the problem is that he was left with absolutely nothing. You can live with being forgotten. Try suddenly not existing.”

“Certainly Morse can work the case, though?” Trewlove asked. “I don’t mean to –“

“Of course he can! The Captain is nothing if not diligent! He built up the Guard – with the help of the Chairman, but still – in the first place!”

Jim and Trewlove were left to stare at her as she breathed heavily. “I am sorry” Sally eventually said, “But – well – almost every officer of the Guard owes him. He saved half of us, helped the other half out.”

“I almost got burned as a witch” Richard happily told them, although Jim couldn’t help but feel that was an exaggeration. “And Matthew – well – someone insinuated his donors weren’t as willing as they actually were, right?”

Jim only understood when Matthew smiled and he saw his fangs glittering in the sunlight. “Oh” he said. “I thought you guys couldn’t be around during the day.”

“Ah, yes, too bad, I forgot my coffin” he drawled.

“Are there –“ he didn’t know how to finish the question.

“The actual Guard consists of about fifty percent humans and fifty percent creatures” Sally guessed what he had been about to ask. “But we were handpicked to handle this case by the Captain” she then boasted.

Jim realized that, whether he knew it or not, Morse had inspired as much loyalty in the people under his command as the old Man had in them.

“Yep. No surprise about the Commander, of course; where the Captain goes, he goes” Richard said.

That rather continued to puzzle him, if he was being honest. He’d never even suspected that Morse and Jakes were friends, and yet it as clear that they were rather close.

“He certainly wouldn’t allow him to come to Oxford alone, three years ago” Matthew the vampire said.

He was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. He didn’t think Morse or Jakes would have liked to know that they were gossiping about them.

“Yes, well, and now here we all are” Sally finished the subject to his relief. “So we might as well do our work.”

* * *

Sadly, there wasn’t much work to do.

They had soon told them all then Guard knew about the Army of Morality – well, as much as they were prepared to disclose for the moment, “We have a few names, but I think the Captain and the Commander should be here for that” – and Jim didn’t like it one bit. As if taking an eighteen-year-old’s family away hadn’t been enough, they were not above murder, bribery and threats if they thought it would help them reach their goal; and more than one family of creatures had to live in hiding – well, even better hiding than they already did – because of them.

“But why?” he pondered eventually. “I mean, magic – it’s not bad, is it?”

Sally shook her head. “No. Magic is just a fact of life, Sergeant. Always has been, always will be. But fanatics never think clearly. That was why they acted so rashly when they…” She trailed off.

“So that’s why something went wrong” Trewlove suddenly guessed. “They were too rash. They didn’t plan on getting rid off Morse’s family. They wanted to get rid off him.”

Sally nodded curtly. “Yes. The spell was designed to wipe him off the face of the earth. But instead…” A weak smile crossed her face. “Many people and creatures have reason to be thankful that it did go so very wrong.”

Jim wondered if Morse would have said the same. He couldn’t imagine being eighteen, walking into his home and suddenly being told that his parents had no idea who he was. No. That wasn’t true – he couldn’t imagine being _any_ age and have the people who had raised him forget all about him.

By the expression on his face when he’d talked about it, he was ready to bet they had been close, too. And he had mentioned siblings as well.

He met Trewlove’s eyes. They were clearly thinking the same thing.

But it was equally clear that there were limits as to what the members of the Guard would divulge when it came to Morse. He was their boss, after all, and they all seemed to care a great deal about him.

Yes, Jim decided; he had been right about Morse; he really seemed to have made a name for himself, and inspired loyalty in all those who worked under him, just like the Old Man himself had at Cowley station.

**Twenty-odd years ago**

**After that night, Dev routinely requests that his Dad be the one to read to him; it seemed he had decided that there were some books that “fit his voice better”, and while he didn’t know about that, he soon came to cherish the time he spent with his son.**

**When he gad first learned he was about to be a father, he had been scared out of his wits. Now, he couldn’t imagine life without his little boy.**

**“I didn’t quite think he’d understand** _The Prince and the Pauper_ **” he told his wife one night, “He’s still so young. But he immediately started questioning me on how no one could have realized the Pauper wasn’t the Prince.”**

**“Dev’s very smart. Everyone says so.”**

**His parents certainly seemed to agree. They doted on their first grandchild.**

**“Love…” he began then quietly, thinking of something that had preoccupied him for some time. “About Connie…”**

**“Oh, I send her pictures and letters, too” she immediately replied. “She’s always very grateful for them. I’ve offered to let her see him a couple of times, but she said she didn’t want to confuse him. Maybe when he’s older.”**

**He was starting to suspect that he had never deserved his wife _or_ Constance. **

**“She’s become a nurse. Doing well for herself.”**

**“Thank God for that.”**

**She drew his hand into hers. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think we’re doing that bad ourselves. Dev’s a little sunshine, and you came back to us. Many have it worse.”**

**He knew that. Williams had fallen the week before D-Day.**

**Sometimes he still had nightmares about the war, and he suspected he always would have.**

**“Still, you didn’t sign up for this when we first met. A child that’s not –“**

**“Oh, no. He’s mine. Well, yours and that makes him mine as well. And I love him as if I had given birth to him myself.”**

**He only realized he’d been worried about her feelings concerning Dev as all those doubts vanished. After all, he’d been fighting the Germans while she had been raising a child she hadn’t know about until a few weeks before he was born. “What would I do without you.”**

**She kissed him. “Shush. We won’t ever have to find out, will we.”**

* * *

**Dev, to no one’s surprise, loved school. He always came home full of stories of what they had learned that day, and no matter how tiring his work had been, it always managed to cheer him up.**

**Dev also caught on remarkably quickly.**

**One evening, he came home to find his son laboriously making his way through a book for reading beginners, refusing to have to be read to him instead.**

**“It’s been what” he whispered to his wife, “Two months? I think we have a scholar on our hands.”**

**“Oh yes, like I said, he’s very smart. He’ll go to university if he continues at this rate.”**

* * *

**“Dad! Dad! I can do numbers!” was the big news of the week after that.**

**“Look at you. Always had trouble with them myself.” He was starting to wonder if Constance had had any hidden geniuses in the family. It would have explained a few things. Then again, she’d always struck him as rather sharp herself.**

**“I like words better, though” he proudly declared. “And music.”**

**Miss Stevens, his teacher, had approached them a few days ago, claiming Dev should be given the chance to learn how to play at least one instrument. They were currently busy trying to figure out how to pay for it. “I dare say most people aren’t that fond of math, son.”**

**“It’s important though. Mum said so.”**

**He’d always be thankful for the trust that had developed between their son and his wife in the war. Even if sometimes, he wondered if –**

**“Math _is_ important, isn’t it?” he questioned him then, his face scrunched up with concentration, and he couldn’t help the smile that stole across his face. He’d been gone for his first five years, and yet his son considered him an authority on things like this. **

**“Of course he does” was all his wife said when he told her. “He and you are so very much alike, really.”**

**He hardly thought any teacher had told his parents that he was that gifted.**

**“Oh, come off it. I mean – You’re both kind and gentle, and he’s so friendly, too. Taking him to the playground means that he’ll invariably find the one lonely child there and befriend them.” Her eyes softened. “I know right now we probably shouldn’t be talking about it, but… do you think we might give him a sibling, eventually?”**

**He’d been thinking about it, too. “I think once I’ve been made Sergeant…”**

**She kissed him. “Only a matter of time, then.”**

* * *

**The one thing he never told her about – in fact, the one thing only he and Dev ever knew about – were their night talks.**

**He might have been but six years old, but he always knew when something was wrong. And so, whenever she left him alone at his request and went to bed, not long afterwards he was sure to hear their son walk up to him, usually with his homework or a drawing he’d laboured over that day, trying to distract him.**

**Part of him knew that he should have sent him back to bed the first time it happened. But on the other hand – well, he was harming no one, was he? And he always fell asleep in the end, allowing him to carry him back to bed. And yet he made him feel very much better just by being there, chattering away.**

**He couldn’t really tell Dev all that was bothering him, naturally. Some things weren’t meant for little ears. But they could talk of other things, and normally, he climbed into his lap. He could already tell he would miss this as Dev grew up.**

**He knew several men who would have scoffed at the thought of spending so much time with a young boy, or cuddling with their kiddies. He couldn’t have cared less.**

**“But why would Christopher Robbin leave Winnie the Pooh behind?” he asked him one day, his eyes brimming with tears. “They’re best friends.”**

**“People grow up and change. It happens”.**

**He sniffs. “You’ll always be there for me though, won’t you, Dad?”**

**He was very aware that it was a fickle promise, but he didn’t care. “Of course, son. No matter what happens, you can always come to me.”**

**Dev beamed at him and he decided that, just for once, lying was justified.**

**His son cuddled up close as he took him into his arms. “Love you, Dad.”**

**“Love you, too.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. *reads comments* it's THAT obvious huh? Well, hope you are still enjoying this despite that!  
> 2\. I have an appointment with my professor about my diss today. If you can, spare me a thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today, I am celebrating because I actually got great news from uni and took a big step towards getting my doctorate. Therefore, you get two chapters! I hope you enjoy them!

One of the biggest problems, Fred reflected as they strolled back to the car, was that he didn’t know the rules. Normal murder cases – he knew how those worked. But with magic involved? Add to that that he’d had no idea it existed in the first place until a short time ago, and he had no clue how to proceed.

And then there was the other thing.

 _Make them bleed_. God knew that, if it had been his family, he’d have agreed with Mrs. Waters whole-heartedly, and Morse probably did, too. And he couldn’t blame him for it.

If this had been a normal case, he would have told the lad to recuse himself from it. Instead, here he was, one of the leading officers involved; and Fred was starting to fear that he would eventually have to stop him from doing something harsh.

Then again, that was what someone like Jakes was for. And from him always hovering near Morse, it had become pretty clear that he considered his job as Commander far more important than that as a Sergeant.

Fred didn’t quite know if he should consider that an asset or a viability. He was clearly loyal to Morse, but there was a price to be paid for loyalty, and a price all those loyal to someone had to pay.

For a moment, he wondered how they had met, what had happened to make Jakes join the Guard.

“It really looks like it’s them” the very man he’d just been contemplating said, sounding resigned.

“There never was any doubt” Morse said dryly. “No motive, no enemies… means whoever was behind it didn’t have anything against Mr. Waters himself, just against what he represented. And so he had to be publicly executed”.

“I’ve been wondering about that” Fred said. “Why would they suddenly decide to just throw it all out in the open?”

“Because that is how they work” Morse said smoothly. “Secret plans didn’t work, so we might as well try and see what happens if normal people find out magic exists.”

Normal people. And he talked about it as if he hadn’t been part of that group for a long while.

Fred supposed he hadn’t been, not since he was a boy and had a loving family that had been ripped from him without warning.

* * *

Once they had all assembled in the squad room, Morse took the word as a matter of course. “The first thing you have to know about the Army is that they will stop at nothing if it means realizing their goal. Don’t think they will hesitate to kill any one of you.” The look that crossed his face then was one that Fred knew from his own mirror. He was ready to bet Morse had already lost colleagues to them and their private little war against magic.

“You can’t argue with them, either. Don’t even try. If you meet someone and they either claim they are from the Army, shout out “Free Britain!” – their slogan – or wear an ankh around their neck, like the one that was imprinted on the body, just run. It’s your only chance.”

“Why do I get the sense that you haven’t always run when being confronted by them, matey?” Strange asked, apparently forgetting about Morse’s position while listening to him.

He smiled wryly. “That may or may not be true, but doesn’t change a thing about what I just said. Now, the foot soldiers, they tend to change frequently… but the leader of the Army is a woman called Octavia Stevens.”

Fred wouldn’t have thought him capable of feeling the amount of disgust he’d pronounced the name with, but then he realized – she must be the one responsible for the spell that had cost Morse his family.

“Needless to say, she is dangerous. Even if you should find yourself in her proximity, don’t approach her if you value your own life.”

Jakes mumbled something that sounded like “Right because you always do that” and Fred realized they had a whole history that he had no idea of. Granted, he should have thought of that before, but it hadn’t seemed real, somehow.

And yet here he was, with two officers who were much closer than he had always believed them to be, a case that involved magic, and a group who was after every single member of the Guard he had just found out existed.

* * *

The knock on his door didn’t come unexpected. With nothing to do for now but wait for developments, they had settled own somewhat, and he had just lit his pipe. “Come in.”

It was Morse, of course. “Sir, I think we should –“

“I think all things considered, you can call me Fred now, don’t you?”

He frowned when the lad flinched slightly. “If you say so.” But he didn’t pronounce his name.

“Sit down.”

He did so. “I know you think I am too close to this case.”

“You are. You are a victim.”

Morse smiled without joy, “It’s been a long time since I have considered myself one.”

And yet he was. They had stolen those he loved the most, and for fifteen years, the lad had been forced to work through it all on his own. “What were they like?” he asked abruptly. Probably he shouldn’t have; but he couldn’t help it. He was too curious.

“Loving. Nurturing. Caring” Morse answered after a long enough pause that Fred had considered that he might not reply at all. “They always encouraged me, they never failed to make me feel better when I’d had a bad day. And when Dad…” he took a deep breath. “Dad had – _has_ a demanding job. When I noticed he was feeling down, I’d steal into whatever room he’d barricaded himself in and talk to him. I doubt it made much of a difference when I was small, but by the time it happened...” he trailed off, then continued, “Sometimes I think that’s what I miss most. His laughter in the dark.”

“Sounds like a good dad” Fred said. Not every man he’d ever met would have been content to let a toddler try and make him feel better at the end of an exhausting day.

“He was the best dad.”

There was something odd about Morse’s pronunciation, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

**Fifteen years ago**

_When the Council first took up his case, he allowed himself to hope. Years later, he would think that it had only been too understandable; a young boy – for all his protests at being called such, he had been nothing else, then – recently turned away from his home, ready to clutch at straws._

_But as the weeks turned into months, Dev slowly came to the realization that no one wold be able to fix this. He wouldn’t be going home. He wouldn’t hug Mum again, and his and Dad’s midnight talks were a thing of the past… No, they had never been. Nothing he remembered had ever taken place._

_So, by the time the Chairman called him to his office to tell him that, for the time being, there was no reason to continue to try and reverse the spell, since they had no idea how, he was – well, he wasn’t resigned; he mostly felt numb. But at least he didn’t make a scene._

_“You see, Dev, there are other things we have to deal with.”_

_He nodded. What else was there to do? He just hoped they wouldn’t throw him out on the streets._

_“Now, there’s the question of what to do with you.”_

_The Chairman stood up and wandered over to the window, but it looked more like he was forcibly trying to be casual than anything, if you asked Dev._

_“I will not lie to you. The chances that you will ever get your family back are not good. But you made it here. You survived. And that is remarkable in itself.”_

_He didn’t think his dumpster diving and sleeping on the streets was anything to write home about – if he still had a home to write to about it, he thought with a stab – but considered it best not to say so._

_“The truth is – and I do hope you won’t mind me putting it so bluntly – you should be dead” the Charmain said, still not looking at him. “The Army should have found you and killed you within hours of the spell being performed, before you had ever made it to London. This means your powers must be rather strong –“_

_“I don’t really –“_

_“Oh, I know you didn’t cast a spell consciously. That’s another point in my favour. It means your magic knows how to protect itself, and you.” He finally turned around then and met his eyes. “And that, in turn, means you have potential.”_

_He didn’t want to have potential. He wanted to go home. That was all he wanted. “And?” he finally asked, when it became clear the Chairman wanted him to._

_He smiled in what Dev believe he thought was a comforting manner. “We know about your scholarship.”_

_He shrugged. It seemed of no consequence now. When he had first got the news, Mum had baked him a cake and Dad had hugged, and his siblings had teased him and everything had seemed full of promise; but what was the use of it now?_

_“You will probably not be surprised to learn that we, too, have universities. And we’d be glad to offer you a scholarship of our own.”_

_He’d never considered going to a London University. Oxford had been his home. But he didn’t have one anymore, did he. “Studying what?”_

_“Well, it is up to you, of course, but I would suggest that magical law enforcement and spells would be of interest to you.”_

_Suggest. Hah. It was pretty bloody clear that that was what he should study, and that he had little say in the matter._

_But then…_

_He had planned on working for the police, just like Dad. And magical law enforcement didn’t sound that different from that, really._

_“I will be honest with you” the Chairman said. “Once, we had the Guard. And with everything that’s been happening lately, it’s high time we do so again, if you ask me. And we’ll need a capable man to build it up once more.”_

_“The Guard?”_

_“Something like a magical police force.”_

_“What makes you think I’d be any good at it?”_

_“Oh, for one thing, you are not in any danger of ever turning into an Army sympathizer” he smiled briefly. “And like I said, your powers must be much stronger than you always thought they were. Also, I do know a clever man when I lay eyes on him and you, Dev, are clever.”_

_“So you are saying I should study and then you… what? Just give me an office and expect me to –“_

_“Of course we wouldn’t just let you do this alone. It’s a lot of responsibility, after all.” He paused. “But then, your parents taught you to be responsible, didn’t they?”_

_It was a low blow, and they both knew it. In his defence, the Chairman at least looked a little ashamed._

_“So you have… made enquiries?”_

_“Part of my job, Dev, is to always know what is going on at any given moment. They seem like very good people.”_

_“They are.” Except for the part where they had forgotten about him, he suddenly thought, rather uncharitably._

_“Oh no. You mustn’t blame them. Remember, this is not their fault – or yours. It was the Army. They did this.” For the first time, the Chairman’s composure slipped and Dev saw just how much he despised them._

_He could only agree. “I will be commencing my studies soon, then?” he asked simply._

_“As soon as you wish.”_

_He nodded. It wasn’t much, but it was something to hold onto. A plan. Something he could do while conducting his own research into how to get his family back._

_Because he would get them back. There had to be something. There was always something._

_Years later, he would think back to the enthusiasm of youth with a bitter smile._

_Then, however, all he knew was that he was going to university._


	9. Chapter 9

The hat stand rule was still firmly in place, but today, Fred decided it was high time he broke it. It hadn’t been Morse who had driven him home, or Jakes, for that matter; Strange had done it when it had transpired that the Guard had to deal with a basilisk emergency before retiring for the night.

Win knew something was wrong the second he opened the door. “Fred! What’s going on?”

It was rather difficult to explain something he didn’t quite understand himself yet, but he tried his best.

* * *

“That poor boy. Imagine being eighteen and suddenly everyone you love doesn’t remember you exist.”

“You said Peter Jakes has his corner though, right?” Joan asked.

He nodded. “I’m rather sure he is more loyal to Morse than he’s ever been to me”. He couldn’t help it if he sounded slightly bitter. He’d never liked not knowing what was going on at his station.

“Well, I’m glad of it” Win said. “He needed a confidant.”

Trust her to always see the positive side of things.

“I am just worried that he’s too close. If this was ordinary case, I wouldn’t let him close to anything having to do with the Army, knowing what I know. They took his family away from him; it’s rather obvious he’s till struggling with it.”

“Of course he is still struggling with it” Winn said. “You have to bring him over for dinner one of these days, I absolutely insist on it. He most likely doesn’t feed himself properly, not under these circumstances.”

“Maybe” he agreed, although he was thinking of Morse’s suit. Pristine, more expensive than anything he would usually have worn. There were many things he didn’t know about his bagman, it seemed, things he’d seen and learned and lived through. Fred wondered if he ever would know about them.

Win gently touched his hand. “We’ll see him sorted, Fred, you’ll see. There has to be a counterspell. There usually is.”

“We can only hope.”

Just like Morse must have, for fifteen long years. Fred didn’t even want to imagine what that had been like. Fifteen years without his family, fifteen years of growing into a man while they never even knew they’d lost a boy.

Dear God, he suddenly thought, if something like this ever happened to them and they didn’t recall that Joanie or Sam were missing… he swallowed. The Army had a lot to answer for.

“Really, it’s vile” Win suddenly said, echoing his thoughts. “I can’t imagine what he must have been through.”

“At least he’s done well for himself” Fred told her, although his words sounded hollow. After all, what was all the success in the world when he’d had no one to share it with?

“That’s hardly a surprise; we all know Morse.”

Only they didn’t, Fred thought. He certainly didn’t know him as well as he believed he did.

But then, he knew the truth now. And he would never allow himself to forget again.

* * *

“How are you?” Peter asked bluntly. “And for once, give me a real answer, would you? It has been a long day.”

Dev couldn’t deny that this brought a smile to his face. God knew the situation wasn’t… ideal; all he could do was try his best to solve the case and hope, hope that it wouldn’t happen, hope that he wouldn’t have to deal with…

He emptied his glass. “Time for another one.”

“Time to call it quits” Peter said firmly. “The last time you had more than two, I had to put you to bed.”

He was right, of course, which however only served to make his interference more annoying. Dev took a deep breath before he did something he might have regretted.

“Ah, Captain. May I have a word?”

He wasn’t surprised that the Chairman had come to find them. In fact, he would have been rather confused if he hadn’t. “Of course. Peter.”

When the Chairman invited him to have a drink, he thought it wise to remember that Peter had tried to cut him off and chose orange juice.

He himself had a glass of Craig as always, of course. “I hear” he said after taking a sip, “That the new case is rather… complicated for all involved.”

“Nothing we cannot handle, Chairman.” They had known each other for fifteen years; Dev was under no illusions that he could deceive him. Nor did he have the wish to do so.

Yes, he had formed him in his own image, if he wanted to be honest; but he had also shown him how to survive in a magical world, and he’d been the one to make him the Captain of the Guard.

Sometimes, he wondered if, just perhaps, he had waited for someone like him to come along. Someone who was just clever enough to lead the newly established Guard and had a grudge against the Army, someone who would never join their ranks because of what they had done to them.

He couldn’t really say that the Chairman had used him. No; he had made sure he’d obtained a place at University, and he had given him his job right afterwards. If he had used him, then Dev had used him in equal measure.

Of one thing he could be certain. Dev would indeed by loyal to him until his dying day.

Again, maybe that was what he had been after. He couldn’t say.

“And what about you? How are you?” he suddenly asked, unconsciously echoing Peter.

He shrugged. “I have to deal with it, but there is no reason to think I can’t” he said honestly.

To his surprise, the Chairman reached out to lay a comforting hand on his arm. “Be careful, Endeavour. Hearts are so easily broken…”

“Ah, but mine already is” he answered with a wry smile, “What is the worst that could happen?”

He surprised him once more by only squeezing his forearm in sympathy.

At least, no matter what happened, Dev had the Chairman’s trust. Something to cling to.

**Twenty-Seven years ago**

**In the end, the decision was rather made for them than by then. One day, Dev discovered the piano in his school music room and came home utterly enchanted. Thankfully, one of Miss Stevens’ friends decided to give him lessons right after school for free for the time being; but that didn’t hide the fact that they simply had no way of paying for such an instrument.**

**It was Aunt Reenie who came to the rescue, or rather, who once more didn’t allow them any say in the matter.**

**That Christmas, a piano that for some reason was small enough that it fit even into their flat showed up at their doorstep. When Aunt Reenie followed, Dev launched himself at her; it was only the temptation of the instrument that made him let go.**

**“I think you just became his favourite aunt” Fred said dryly, knowing fully well she wouldn’t hold it against him.**

**“What makes you think I wasn’t before?” was all the answer he got, proving him right.**

**At first, there were a lot of missed keys and rather strange-sounding children’s song, but the lad persevered, and soon, he got used to coming home to find rather well-played if still simple melodies hanging in the air.**

* * *

**Dev had just turned eight and he’d been made a sergeant when they decided to try for another child. Granted, the age difference between them and their first born would be rather great, but with the war and everything that had been going on, it wasn’t as unusual as it would have been at other times.**

**Their one worry was that Dev would prove to be jealous, but the second his mum announced she was pregnant, it turned out it didn’t matter. He immediately started quizzing them about the baby, and of course soon brought his favourite hobby into it.**

**“Can I show them letters?”**

**“I think they might be a bit too small in the beginning for that, Dev” he told him with a smile.**

**“But they’ll grow bigger, won’t they?”**

**Sometimes he thought their son was a little too clever for his own good, but then, he wouldn’t have traded him for anything.**

**Due to some small complications – “She’ll be fine, sir, we just want to make sure”, easily translated as “we realized you were from the police and won’t risk that you make any complaints –“ his wife spent a week in the physical before having the baby, and between Mrs. Leeds from next door looking after him in the afternoon and him knowing his way around the kitchen, they rubbed along fairly well even if there were some hiccups.**

**“Mum always cuts off the crusts” he told him one day.**

**“Is that so” he said dryly. He’d had a late night, with their newest case not going so well, and he could feel the beginnings of a headache.**

**His irritation vanished, however, when he turned around to find Dev looking worried. “What is it, son?”**

**He bit his lip. “Mum and the baby are going to be okay, aren’t they?”**

**He drew him into a hug. “Of course they will be. I told you; the doctors just want to make sure. Would you prefer a brother or a sister?”**

**Clever little eyes stared up at him. “I want them to be healthy.”**

**Sometimes, his son sounded more adult than he believed he’d ever been himself.**

* * *

**Their daughter was born without complications, as he had desperately hoped she would be. Dev knew what had happened the second he picked him up from school, naturally. “The baby’s here?”**

**He nodded. “You’ve got a sister.”**

**“A sister” he mused, and for a second, he feared that Dev was disappointed after all, but then, with the unflappable logic of children, he said, “Mary from my class likes books.”**

**The way he said it made him suspect that their oldest had his first crush, but there were other, more important things to deal with.**

* * *

**Dev stared at his sister. “She’s so tiny.”**

**“Yes, but like you said, she’ll grow.” Then, he asked, “Do you want to hold her?”**

**Deb was still looking at her, obviously enchanted, but nodded.**

**He carefully cradled her once they had told him how to. “Hey.” He pronounced her name with more reverence than he’d ever heard from him. “I’m your big brother.”**

**Looking at both of his children, he didn’t think he’d ever been prouder.**

* * *

**Dev was ten and had just started to play Schumann, his sister was following him around everywhere at two years, and they were thinking about having another when they decided to sit him down and tell him about his birth mother. Connie still regularly thanked them for the pictures his wife kept sending her, and they were thinking that it might be time for them to meet.**

**Dev was looking at them, slightly puzzled. “Did I do something wrong?”**

**“No, no.” He then carefully moved to explain that his wife wasn’t Dev’s mother after all. Thankfully, a kid in his class had been adopted as a baby, so he wasn’t quite unfamiliar with the concept.**

**When he was done, Dev was frowning. “But” he said, turning to her, “You’ll always be my mum, right?”**

**“Of course, Dev” she told him, her eyes shining as she drew him into a hug. “I made a promise when I married your father, and I love you.”**

**“I love you too” he told her and he hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear Dev tell her something like this until this very moment. He breathed a sigh of relief.**

**By the time Dev met Connie, they were expecting another child. They’d decided to meet up in the nearby park.**

**Dev and Connie sat down on a bench and talked. His wife had told him that she’d recently been promoted to hear nurse.**

**Still, Dev was quiet on the way home. Then, once they had eaten dinner, he announced, “I was right.”**

**“What about?”**

**“She’s nice. I like her. But she’s not my mum. You are.” He smiled at her. “Can we have a boy this time around, though?”**

**“Oy, you little –“ but he was distracted by her pulling Dev into a tight hug once again, only then realizing that she must have been more worried than she had let on.**

* * *

**Dev was as enchanted with his baby brother as he had been with his sister when she had been born.**

**“But he’s small” she complained.**

**“So were you” Dev told her.**

**“I was never this small!”**

**“Maybe you’re right” he mused, “I think it’s very possible you might have been smaller.”**

**She stuck out her tongue at him. Later that day though, they went to the playground together, so he decided everything must be fine.**

* * *

**“No, no, I’ll explain. Look, that’s an A –“**

**“Can’t you just read it to me?”**

**“You’ll want to read for yourself eventually, don’t you think?”**

**“Never!”**

**He chuckled as he made his way past the kids while his wife and their youngest were resting. This might not have been quite the life he had been imagining for himself when he’d been a child himself,** **but he wouldn’t have traded it for anything, he thought as he ruffled Dev’s hair.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the congratulations and your comments! Hope you continue to enjoy this story!

Watching him over the next few days, Jim decided that Morse’s style of leading the Guard definitely reminded him of someone.

It wasn’t until Sally apparently almost got turned to stone by a basilisk because she wanted to test her theories about mirrors (or something like that, he didn’t quite understand completely, if he was being honest) and Morse spent ten minutes berating her for it good-naturally before complimenting her on her idea that he realized. Seemed like Morse had taken a bit of inspiration from the Old Man.

Well, it was not the worst example he could have followed; and yet at the same time, Jim had the feeling that there was more to it than that. He couldn’t quite explain it, but so it was.

* * *

Matthew had taken to sound out people he knew, to see if the Army had spread their influence further than they thought it had, and Richard was busy updating their files with everything they needed to know. All in all, Jim was ready to admit that the Guard members who were by now running in and out of Cowley station as of they’d never worked anywhere else were unobtrusive, professional and polite; and yet he couldn’t help but think that something had irrevocably changed.

After a while, he decided that that something was Morse’s and Jakes’ relationship – despite his attempts to simply regard it as a good change and move on. He was used to the sergeant berating Morse, or making abrasive comments – and that was a thing of the past, now. Jakes was nothing if not respectful of “Dev”, and Morse made it clear at every opportunity that he trusted him implicitly. It should have been a relief, but somehow felt stranger than it had any right to be.

* * *

On day four of the investigation, the Chairman showed up. Until now, Jim had scarily spared him a thought; there were simply other things to think of; but Sally, who happened to be the only one from the Guard in the squad room at the moment, shot up the second he entered.

“Relax, Lieutenant Ford” he told her with the voice of someone who had grown used to wielding authority and, furthermore, was rather comfortable with it indeed. “The Captain?”

“He, Commander Jakes and DI Thursday are conferring as we speak” she told him.

“Good. We need to talk, anyway.” Without ceremony, he knocked on the door, and when DI Thursday called for him to enter, he did so.

Sally sat down again. “Either it seems he only wants a report or there is news.

“Nothing new in him barging in and asking questions, then?” Jim asked. From what he had gathered, he was at least as powerful as the Chief Constable, and thank God he couldn’t imagine _him_ just coming in for an update.

“He and Captain Morse have known each other for years” Sally said simply, “So he probably doesn’t think much of it.”

* * *

In truth, Dev had been expecting this for a while. Why wouldn’t the Chairman of the Council show up once he learned the details? “Chairman” he said, getting up immediately. “DI Thursday” he introduced them.

They had never met before, but he knew of him, of course. In fact, Dev was ready to bet he knew everything there was to know about him. He had his reasons.

They shook hands. “I take it the investigation is going well?” The Chairman, whose name he had never learned and never would, asked.

“As well as could be expected, sir” DI Thursday said smoothly.

“Excellent. I just wanted to introduce myself before I have a talk with… Superintendent Bright, is it?”

He knew; of course he did. He just wanted to make a point that he was more important than anyone working for Cowley station ever would be.

Dev didn’t mind. He knew him too well for that.

He could only hope that DI Thursday wouldn’t mind, either.

* * *

Well, look at that. The Chairman of the Council. Fred still firmly believed in his ability to read a room, no matter what, and he could bet he and Morse indeed knew each other better than they had let on. He probably shouldn’t question the lad in front of Jakes, though; after all, he was supposed to be his boss, in a way…

No, not just _in a way._ They worked around one another with the familiarity that spoke of years spent together on the job. Fred would have been able to recognize that everywhere. “What was that about, then?”

Morse shrugged. “He likes to visit and remind everyone who is in charge, now and then. He means no harm.”

Considering he would have to be one of the most powerful magicians in Oxford to get the job, Fred wasn’t quite sure how far to trust that statement, but didn’t comment on it. “Known him for long?”

“Ever since I – I met him shortly after I turned eighteen.”

Right after he’d lost his family, then. Fred couldn’t help it; he was more than a little curious about how the lad had got on, and what had happened to make him the Captain of the Guard. Learning about those years in between them and now, though, he had quickly realized, would be like pulling teeth. And he had the distinct feeling that only part of it was the fact that Morse still missed his family desperately. There was something else, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on…

* * *

At least he was destined to learn one more thing today.

Morse had grown increasingly frustrated throughout the day; Jakes kept shooting him concerned looks, and the entire Guard was on their best behaviour, indicating they knew very well he could explode at any moment.

“This is leading us nowhere” he finally announced. “I’ll skip down to the morgue, have another butcher’s at the body, see if Doctor DeBryn found anything else” and then he was gone.

A moment later, Strange said to no one in particular. “That was Cockney.”

Jakes shrugged with feigned indifference as he fished for a cigarette. “We met in London. He’s spent quite a bit of time there.”

So that was where Morse originally hailed from. Well, it finally explained that tilt to his accent that had been bothering Fred for a while, now.

**Fifteen years ago**

_His studies would actually have been really interesting, if he hadn’t kept wondering what Mum and Dad would make of it all. Oh, he did his best to keep up – right now, he was completely dependent on the Council and he couldn’t afford to anger the Chairman – but – but –_

_About two weeks after he’d first started his courses, he sat in his room at college and pulled out the key he always kept on a chain around his neck, now; he didn’t even take it off to shower._

_It was still cold. According to the Council, it most likely would be until the spell was broken._

_If, he suddenly realized._ If _it was ever broken._

_And then, for the first time since he had tried to return home and realised that it wasn’t home anywhere, Dev began to cry, the silent, empty sobs of a child lost in the woods who had just realized that there was every reason to think it would never find the way out again._

* * *

_He did indeed have magical abilities that went beyond what he had believed himself capable of. The revelation brought him little joy. If he had indeed been as powerless as he thought, the Army would never have targeted him._

_He told his professors and the other students to call him Morse. He needed to get used to it. Afterall, it was his name now._

_Sometimes at night, he repeated his former name to himself until it seemed to have lost all meaning._

* * *

_The Chairman “dropped by”, as he put it, regularly to study his progress. One day, Dev – no, Morse – no, Dev – he didn’t even know anymore – realized he saw almost more of him than of his fellow students._

_“Your professors tell me you are doing well.”_

_“I am just trying my best.”_

_“That is all that could be expected.” They had gone to a pub, although Dev stuck with orange juice, as was his wont. “I do have your family under observation, just to make sure nothing happens.”_

_“Thank you.”_

But if you told them _, he thought,_ they would protest that they only have two children and that you must be mistaken.

_In his darkest moments, he wondered if this meant they simply hadn’t loved him all that much; in the next, he would chastise himself for the very thought._

_“As soon as you have finished your degrees, we will move forward with trying to establish a new Guard.”_

_Sometime she wondered when his life had ceased to be under his control, but then, it never really had been. This had been forced on him, and he could do nothing about it._

_“For what unit’s worth, Dev” the Chairman continued in a somewhat gentler tone, “I think you are handling this very well.”_

_He didn’t know about that. Mostly he tried to survive, and on days when he felt like he couldn’t breathe, he listened to the LPs he’d bought with the allowance the Council bestowed on him._

_“I think that your parents would be very proud of you. If they knew.”_

_“You don’t know them” he spat, angrier than he had intended._

_“No, I don’t” was his simple reply. “But I know their son, so I am rather sure they must be decent people.”_

_He swallowed and looked away. At times, he almost forgot – forgot about them as they had forgotten about him, or rather, forgot to think of them; but mostly at night, he_ remembered _. He remembered Mum’s home-cooked meals and how he would sometimes sneak down into the living room to speak to Dad; he remembered his sisters’ insistence on being read The Wind in the Willows yet again, and his brother playing around with his toy cars at their feet as he did so._

_He didn’t mention it. What good would it have done?_

_"You will get used to it" the Chairman surprised him by saying. "It's all about routine. You'll see, Endeavour."_

_He wasn't quite sure about that but didn't voice his objections. The look in the Chairman's eyes told him he knew anyway.  
_

**Eleven years ago**

_Time went on. Once he had finished his degrees, he was given a flat and not only that – an office, too; and then he was more or less single-handedly responsible for keeping creatures and magic users in London safe. The Council regularly forwarded him files of strange activity, which he was ten supposed to investigate._

_The first time he turned up in a magic shop and started asking questions about a break-in the owner laughed until he showed him his brand-new badge with the seal of the Council and the Chairman’s signature. He stopped laughing pretty abruptly at that._

_Two days later, he chased down the burglar, who tried to use a spell against him but was no match for the protection of the hex bags he’d started carrying._

_The Chairman showed up that evening to congratulate him as he was finishing his report. “Good work, Dev.”_

_“It wasn’t difficult.”_

_“Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve praise.”_

_The Chairman handed him a file. “I think you’ll be interested in this.”_

_When he opened it and saw the picture, his breath caught in his throat._

Her _._

_The one who had come to his home and then taken it away from him._

_“It’s probably time we start researching the Army” the Chairman said, “Now that we have the beginnings of a Guard.” He paused. “For what it is worth, Endeavour – I am sorry you have to do this.”_

_He actually sounded like he meant it._

* * *

_He worked. He slowly made a name for himself. He read. He listened to music._

_He researched how to lift the spell._

_And at night, he_ remembered, _remembered until it hurt, until it felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore._

_He never told anyone. There wasn’t anyone to tell. The Council were the only ones who knew about what had happened to him, and he preferred it that way._

_And then, just as he had given up hope, he found a true friend._

**Ten years ago**

_Peter Jakes met Dev at what, if he had lived any other life, he would have called one of the worst nights of it. He was slightly drunk and walking home to the dingy little flat he had rented six months ago and try and figured out what he wanted to do with himself, and he wasn’t any closer to do so than he had been then; furthermore, he’d been sacked two weeks ago and didn’t know if he’d be able to pay rent any longer._

_And then the vampire attacked._

_He didn’t know it was a vampire, then. In fact, he had been living in a rather happy state of ignorance concerning all things magical._

_It didn’t matter. One minute, he was wobbling along the pavement, the next, eh was pressed against the nearest wall, something that he would later learn were teeth scraping against his throat._

_“Lovely, lovely blood” the person who was holding onto him hissed and for a second, he wondered if that had been it when Dev acted._

_He never learned how much time it truly took, but it felt like only a second later when he was staring at the decapitated body of his attacker._

_“Sorry about the blood” the man was saying, “but –“_

_It was at this time that the anaesthetic nature of the vampire breath finally worked, and he fainted._

* * *

_When he came to, he was lying on a sofa he didn’t recognize in a room he had never seen before._

_“Take it easy” the man who had saved him passed him a glass of water. “The faintness should pass soon.”_

_“What was that?” was the first question that came to mind._

_“A vampire” he said matter-of-factly. “In case you didn’t know – sorry, but there is no way to ease you into this – I’m rather certain you have some latent magical abilities.”_

_Peter laughed, then; he couldn’t help it. “What?”_

_The man didn’t join his laughter. “You’ll learn.”_

_Big, questioning eyes peered into his face, and then he extended a hand. “Endeavour Morse. You can call me Dev.”_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay my pretties, this is a big one I have been looking forward to.

Shirley was one of the first at the station that morning, but she wasn’t surprised to see that Morse had beaten her to it. He was busy assembling what she had learned to call hex bags a few short days ago.

When she had also come to know him as the Captain of the Guard.

She’d known that magic existed, but she hadn’t expected a colleague of hers to be so… involved. Two colleagues, in fact.

Really, the most astonishing about it all was that Morse and Jakes were indeed friends.

Despite knowing she shouldn’t, she kept watching him. He’d set up a small record player on his desk and was listening to someone playing the piano – Chopin, Shirley thought, although she couldn’t be sure – and now and then, he would make some movements with his fingers when he wasn’t too preoccupied with the hex bags…

“Good morning, Captain.”

He looked up. “Constable is quite enough. Or Morse.”

“Then you have to call me Shirley, I insist on it.”

Something like a smile crossed his face. She counted it as a success. God knew, the case…

“May I ask…”

“Protection” he said matter-of-factly. “There are spells who could do the same, of course, but… I don’t like to use magic if I can avoid it.”

Silence followed. Shirley didn’t know what to say. It was only too obvious why he wouldn’t cast a spell if he didn’t absolutely have to.

To make them both think of something else, she nodded towards the record player. “Do you…” she trailed off when she saw his face.

“I used to” he said courtly. “I haven’t touched a piano in fifteen years.”

She bit her lip. On the one hand, he probably didn’t want to talk about it; on the other… “I – Captain, I’m sorry about your family.”

“Everyone says that, but no one can do anything about it, can they” he spat. In the next moment however, he shook his head. “That was uncalled for. I apologize, Shirley.”

“You are probably tired of hearing it” she replied, unsure of whether or not to add “sir” to the end of the sentence.

He seemed to sense her hesitation. “I think when we’re not talking about work, Dev would be more appropriate, Shirley.”

She knew Morse well enough to recognize this as the honest apology that it was.

* * *

Later, Fred would think that he was neither a surprised nor as shocked as he would have thought he’d be. Maybe a part of him had known all along. As a matter of fact, he clung to the possibility, clung to the hope.

It was the best he could do.

They had been investigating Waters’ murder for a little over a week now, and had all grown used to the members of the Guard flitting in and out of the squad room, as well as to the deference they usually showed Morse. When he’d alluded to it, Jakes had courtly informed him that all of them owed him their lives in one way or another. Fred was far from astonished at that fact.

Still, they were making no progress whatsoever. They were sure the Army was behind the murder, but they couldn’t prove it, nor were they any closer to finding out how many of them there were or where their headquarters were.

Morse was getting impatient, he could tell. It probably didn’t help that he was, indeed, too close to the case. If this had been in their sole jurisdiction, he would have gone to Bright and told him to relieve him off his duties for the time being.

And then he probably would have carried on his investigation in private, because that was what Morse did.

And really, could he blame him, knowing what he did? Knowing that they had looked at a young boy and decided to try and rid the world off him and had stolen his family away instead? Fred didn’t even want to imagine something like that happening to either of his kids.

Things came to a heed on Friday. It was pure coincidence that Fred was in the squad room to begin with; he’d wandered in in the half-hope that there might be some developments. Morse was going through the file again, growing more and more frustrated each time he turned a page.

“Dev” Jakes eventually began.  

“Not now, Peter.”

He shot Fred a look he couldn’t read. “This isn’t going to do any good. You look like you haven’t slept in days, mate” he told him bluntly, “And you really need something to eat.”

He looked up then, and it wasn’t difficult to tell that Jakes was right.

Fred made a decision. “Look, lad, why don’t we call it a day and you come home with me? Get a good meal into you?” Win would soon have him up to his normal weight again, which she usually insisted was a little too light, anyway.

Morse looked at him then, and the sudden and inexplicable pain in his eyes almost made Fred take a few steps back. Dear God, what was going on? There was loneliness there, and desperation, and something else, something he couldn’t quite figure out –

“I – I can’t, sir. I’m sorry.” Despite his offer, he had yet to call Fred by his first name. “I have to work.” He got up. “I’ll go and tell the Chairman about our progress.”

There was none that Fred was aware of.

“Morse –“

“Not now – sir. Please.” He closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose; then he gathered his coat and hat.

“Dev –“

“Not now, Peter” he repeated, as if there was nothing else he had to say. “Not now.”

Fred wanted to protest; he was rather sure that Morse should not be driving in the state he was in, especially remembering what had happened during the Mason Gull case; but the lad didn’t even spare him a glance, apparently determined to ignore him.

And then he was gone.

Fred looked at the door he had just stormed out of, wondering what he’d said. Strange and Trewlove seemed just as confused, but the members of the Guard rather looked a little too knowing for his liking…

“Sir, we need to talk.” And Jakes all but dragged him into his office and closed the door behind them before he could react.

“What –“

“You can’t do this” he said bluntly. “You can’t tell him things like this. You _can’t_.”

“Why? Win likes him, always has, and Joan –“

Jakes closed his eyes, looking rather eerily like Morse for a second, and sighed before opening them again, “Sit down.”

Despite the harshness of the command and the fact that Jakes was still technically his subordinate, he obeyed.

“Look” Jakes, who remained standing, said, “I want you to know that I am very sorry for what I am about to do. I am incredibly sorry. But you have to know for his sake. I can’t risk – the last time he almost didn’t come back. And he needs to keep his wits about him, especially now.”

“What do I have to –“

“He’s going to kill me if he ever finds out” Jakes muttered to himself then continued, “Did he tell you anything about his family? Anything at all?”

Fred remembered every word Morse had chosen to bestow on him regarding the subject. “They were obviously close. Especially him and his dad.” Belatedly, he realized that until a very short time ago, he’d been convinced that he’d once brought Morse to his dying father’ bedside, and wondered if that had been part of the spell, too – making him see things that weren’t real. Probably. Dear God, had he just left him standing there on an empty field?

“What exactly did he tell you about his father?”

“He said – he said he was the best dad.”

Jakes’ eyes bore into his. “Did he, now?”

He was growing impatient. “I rather think I should be able to remember a conversation I only had a few days ago, Sergeant –“

And then he did, indeed, remember.

_Big eyes, sad eyes, looking at him. Eyes that spoke of many lonely nights sitting up, remembering the family he had lost._

_“He was the best dad.”_

_And that sentence, sounding just slightly off; at the time Fred attributed it to the fact that Morse’s accent had changed, but –_

_No. No. He hadn’t said –_

_He was the best dad._

_Instead, what Morse told him that day, looking him straight in the face, was –_

_He was the best,_ Dad _._

And it all came crashing down.

**Twenty-one years ago**

**Dev was twelve when Mickey Carter was beaten to death. One minute, Fred had been sure that he was on the side of good, and the next he was told that the man he’d been working with for several years had been a bad apple and that there was nothing he could do about those who’d murdered him.**

**He sat in the living room, his head buried in his hands; too distracted to even light his pipe.**

**Then, a gentle voice. “Dad?”**

**He looked up to find Dev in his pyjamas. Win had insisted they all go to bed rather early tonight, probably thinking it would do them good; Fred had waited until she was asleep before getting up again, and as it turned out, he wasn’t the only Thursday to flee his bed.**

**“Yes, son?” It didn’t matter what had happened to Mickey; if their oldest needed something…**

**He bit his lip. “I’m sorry about Sergeant Carter. He was nice.”**

**Not only that, but he’d been a bloody great policeman too, and a loyal friend. But he couldn’t very well that to a twelve-year-old who had only just learned that his dad wasn’t able to keep everyone safe, as he had hoped.**

**To his surprise, Dev climbed into his lap as he had always done when he was just a little boy in an obvious attempt to comfort him. He hugged him. “What are you going to do now?”**

**Such an adult question for such a young person. But then, Dev often seemed older than his years. “I don’t know. I should leave the whole bloody lot behind.”**

**He drew back and looked him straight in the face. “No. You love working for the police. And Carter wouldn’t want that.”**

**So young, and yet so wise. He reached out and ruffled his hair. “What do you think I should be doing?”**

**He looked at him then, a frightened young boy once more. “Are they going to come after you, too?”**

**“It’s a possibility.”**

**“Then” he said with the simple wisdom of children, “We have to move. Somewhere where they can’t find us.”**

**Fred was rather sure they would be able to find him wherever he moved, but on the other hand, Dev was right – out of sight, out of mind. “I’ll talk to Mum in the morning. See what we can come up with.”**

**“You’ll find a solution” he said confidently. “You’re my** dad **.”**

**“Aye, that I am. And you, young man, should be going to bed.”**

**He shook his head. “I’m not tired” he proclaimed even though the next moment he had to yawn.**

**Fred didn’t dispute his claim. Dev had correctly assumed that he could use the company.**

**And so his son once more fell asleep in his arms that night, Fred swearing to himself that he would do anything he needed to in order to keep his family safe.**

* * *

**The next morning, after a talk with Win, their move was all but decided. Joan and Sam were too small to care, but Dev had friends at school and he couldn’t help but worry about that. He was pragmatic about it, though. “I can write to them” was all he said.**

**And so they moved to Oxford.**

**On their first evening in their new home – their oldest’s piano having got a place of pride in the corner –  he was having a smoke in the living room when Dev showed up claiming he wanted him to look over his homework. They both knew it wasn’t necessary.**

**“I like it here” he told him. “We have a garden now, for the kiddies.”**

**Fred suppressed a smile. Dev liked to cast himself as the adult in the house when he could get away with it.**

* * *

**A few short months after they had moved to Oxford, Fred had to take Dev up to Lincolnshire. He didn’t want to do it, but he couldn’t begrudge Connie the chance to see her son one last time. She’d been fighting the disease for a while without telling anyone, apparently.**

**Dev was quiet on the way up. “What am I supposed to say?”**

**“It doesn’t matter” he said. Because it didn’t. “She just wants to see you.”**

**He swallowed and nodded.**

**Connie was lying in a hospital bed, and Fred felt touched when he realised she must have gotten someone to make her look pretty for Dev. She had never married, but the many cards and flowers in the room told a story of a life well spent.**

**She smiled. “Hello, Endeavour.”**

**He shuffled his feet. “Hello, Mother.”**

**“You’ve grown so much. Let me look at you.”**

**He moved towards her.**

**Fred couldn’t help but be proud. The lad was doing his best.**

* * *

**That night, after they had returned, he was walking past Dev’s and Sam’s room when he heard sobbing. Reacting immediately, he found Dev crying in bed.**

**He swept him up and soon had him sit down in the kitchen while making them a cup of tea.**

**“I don’t know why I’m crying” he said, wiping his face. “It’s not like it’s you or Mum.”**

**“She gave birth to you. She’s part of you. And for what it’s worth, I think it’s a good sign” he told him.**

**His boy had a good heart.**

**Dev smiled through his tears then, and he knew everything would be fine.**

* * *

**Despite the move, Dev continued to excel at school. He’d also started reading poetry lately, and one day, Fred came home to hear opera music drifting through the house.**

**“Win?” he asked when she hurried to kiss him.**

**“Dev wanted to listen to it. Said a teacher at school played them a little bit, and he really liked it. I could hardly say no.”**

**How strange. The last time he had listened to opera had been in Italy, during the war…**

**Well, it didn’t matter.**

**Dev was doing his homework in the living room. “It’s Madame Butterfly” he said when Fred opened the door, proving once again he’d probably inherited his copper instincts from him.**

**“I see.” He ruffled his hair.**

**On some days, life was rather good.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure hope you could all take this cliffhanger which obviously NO ONE could see coming especially when I read the comments ;P


	12. Chapter 12

He remembered. Good God, he remembered.

**Tiny eyes opening up at him. Fred Thursday, a father before he went to war. Who would have thought.**

* * *

**“Dad? I’m scared. I think there’s another monster –“**

**“Well, we got rid off the first one, didn’t we? Let’s have a look.”**

* * *

**“I am going to be the best big brother ever! I’ll teach her to read, and we’ll play, and I’ll protect her from the monsters like you did –“**

**Fred had contemplated pointing out Joan was too small for any of those things yet, especially for imagining monsters, but he wasn’t going to interrupt him when he was so clearly enjoying himself.**

* * *

All those memories, all those little moments, all those small but significant exchanges.

Endeavour Thursday. His son. His Dev.

His first instinct was naturally to rush after him, to let him know, to apologize, to draw him into his arms and never let go, but Jakes blocked his way.

“Sergeant” he barked.

“You can’t” he said simply. “I am very sorry, but you can’t.”

“What do you mean I can’t? I just remembered I have another son, and I –“

No one could have mistaken the look in Jakes’ eyes. Raw, honest pity, and for a moment, before he realized, Fred hated him for it.

And then he figured it out. “This is not the firs time I have remembered” he said flatly.

Jakes shook his head. “The third time since he returned to Oxford.”

The third time? He had remembered and forgotten his own son _three times_? Fred rubbed his face with his hands. This was a nightmare. “How –“

“It’s the spell. Even if you remember, he slips out of your head again after a while.” Jakes paused. “He – when we first arrived, you managed to hold on for about a week, going back and forth. That in itself wasn’t a problem, but he started to hope – and then it was gone again. I will never forget the look on his face.”

“What about the other time?”

Hakes didn’t look at him, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. Eventually he replied, “Blenheim Vale. Dev was already frantic, and I should have accompanied him, but I couldn’t – and then he didn’t find DI Thursday there, but his father. He thinks all that excitement must have broken the spell temporarily for you again. And then – and then he was in jail and knew that not only had you forgotten all about him, he didn’t know if you were still alive. We tried to get him all the information we could, but, you know –“ he shrugged. “And you know what he did after he came out.”

Yes, Fred knew. Run away to live in the woods because he couldn’t bear it to look into the face of his father once more and see that he was not his son to him.

And oh God. He’d been the one to drag him back.

“I can’t. I’m not the same. I wouldn’t be of any use to you”. _I can’t._ he hadn’t meant the work. He had meant working with his father, looking at him and seeing a stranger.

Oh God. _Oh God._

“You mustn’t blame yourself” Jakes said firmly. “Dev never did. You have to believe that.”

No, the good-hearted boy he remembered wouldn’t. “But what if I try –“

“You really think you didn’t the last times?”

He swallowed.

“Look” Jakes said matter-of-factly while stumping out his cigarette. “Scream at me. Punch me if it will make you feel better. But I will still do anything in my power to stop you from breaking his heart again.”

“You care about him” he said.

“He is my best friend” he replied simply. “He was the one responsible for getting me this job. Saved my life, three times that he knows of, two that he doesn’t.”

At least, Fred thought numbly, someone was looking after his boy.

“He says he usually notices when you remember, but really, he could very easily just be reacting to you telling him. And I don’t know how often he can go through this again before he doesn’t come back from it. So you see you can’t just say things like that. Family dinner with the family not being aware that it is one is not going to do him any good right now.”

No. No, it wouldn’t.

There had been times, Fred now knew, when Dev’s façade had slipped. When he’d been just a little too warm to Win, too loyal to him, too wary of Joan’s suitors.

He closed his eyes as he remembered telling him to be _good to her_. Small wonder he’d looked like _that_ when he had.

“He’ll have calmed down by the morning” Jakes said. “He usually does. In fact, he’s probably waiting for me. We keep each other snae, you see” he continued, as if that was a normal thing to say. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.”

And he left him to collect himself, which was probably a good idea.

Fred tried to fill his pipe, but his hands were shaking. Memories were assailing him, of Dev laughing, learning to ride a bike, reading quietly by himself with opera playing in the background, playing with his siblings.

His _son_. His little boy.

Their talks at night – _I think that’s what I miss most. His laughter in the dark._

God. He’d told him right to his face, and if not for Jakes, he would never have known.

Now he understood Dev’s hatred for the Army. He wanted to tear into every single one of its members with his own bare hands. He wanted to watch them _bleed,_ like Mrs. Waters.

He needed about an hour before he felt calm enough to go home, an hour during which miraculously no one disturbed him, which he rather thought was probably due to Jakes.

* * *

Win came out of the kitchen to greet him as always. “Fred! You’re late.”

“Sorry. The case…”

She kissed him. “Always the same with you. Small wonder you and Morse get along so well. Two peas in a pod.”

Thankfully she didn’t see his flinch.

During dinner, he tried desperately to keep up a normal conversation.

What he actually wanted to say was, _We have another son, Win. Endeavour Thursday. Born right before I went to war. He’s so smart, and so strong and so brave; he lost us when he was eighteen and he still managed to build up a magical police force. I’m so proud of him. I don’t think I could be any prouder. And I cannot tell him because it would only hurt him when I forget again._

He didn’t because he couldn’t.

**Ten years ago**

_He was still a little drunk, and whatever magic the vampire had used to ensure he didn’t struggle had drained him, too, and so it was a small wonder that Peter fell asleep soon after Dev had told him that he must have some magical abilities. What did surprise him was that he left him to rest._

_He woke up to find a note on the table that said,_ Don’t leave. I’ll be back around midday.

_There was tea waiting for him in the kitchen._

_Dev did indeed return around midday. “In had to make sure the body had been dealt with.”_

_He nodded, unsure of what to say. “Thank you for last night.”_

_He blinked. “Oh, the vampire? Don’t mention it. It’s quite alright.”_

_Peter wondered if he knew how dismissive of his own heroic act he sounded. “Still, I would be dead.”_

_“Or a vampire” he said bluntly._

_“You don’t embellish things, do you.”_

_“No time” was all the answer he got._

_“So what are you – some kind of magical police?”_

_Unexpectedly, Dev, who was busy pouring himself a cup of tea, chuckled. “You could say that. I am definitely magical, and I am trying to build up something like a police force for creatures and magic users alike.”_

_“And how is that going?” To his surprise, Peter realized he was actually interested. It had been a while since he had been curious about something._

_It felt good._

_He shrugged. “As good as can be expected. Most people I’ve talked to don’t seem very interested.”_

_“So you’re just policing London by yourself?”_

_Another shrug was all the answer he got. “If I need help, I can always call upon the Council. Now, there are a few precautions you should be taking when you go out there…”_

_He knew a change of subject when he heard one._

* * *

_Dev had slowly but surely come to understand that what he needed was someone he could trust, someone who see the supernatural in the eye like he did on a regular basis and not run. Someone who would be his second-in-command. The rest would follow._

_Until now, he had despaired of it._

_But thinking of yesterday…_

* * *

_A few days later, his world shifted under his feet again, although not quite as dramatically as it had when he had learned that mafic existed._

_Maybe, he would later think, he had even expected it. There had been something about Dev…_

_He came home one night after walking around all day and trying to find something to do to see him sitting on his door step. “Mr. Jakes. May I come in?”_

_“Peter’s quite enough.” He didn’t ask how he knew his address._

_He wondered what Dev made out of his flat. Probably nothing much. His own had been cleaner, airier and more comfortable._

_“I have an offer for you” he said, turning to him as soon as the door had closed behind them. “I know you’re currently out of work –“_

_“You’re starting to know quite a few things about me, mate” he told him._

_A smile flittered across his face. “Let’s just say we keep files on the more… interesting parts of the population. Just finished compiling yours.”_

_“More interesting parts” probably meaning the magical part. “So I don’t have a job. And?”_

_“I was wondering if you’d like to come and work with me.”_

_“For you, you mean” he pointed out._

_Dev shrugged. “It would just be you and me in the beginning. Same difference.”_

_“But why me?”_

_“You learned vampires existed and didn’t run. That’s something.”_

_“I fainted.”_

_“That were the powers they’d been using against you. I’d make sure you know all about shielding yourself, of course – even more than I showed you before. Teach you all I know.” He smiled wryly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”_

_And Peter thought about the rent he was going to owe his landlady very soon, about Dev jumping in and saving him because he considered it his duty, but most of all, he thought of the loneliness behind the younger man’s eyes._

_And then he decided to take a gamble. “When can I start?”_

* * *

_As he got to know him better, Peter cane to think that Dev was both one of the weirdest people he had ever met and really remarkably normal considering what they did for a living._

_He really did like his operas, usually playing them around the office._

_And he always had an open ear for anyone who showed up asking for help._

_But there was something – maybe it was the loneliness that was etched into his features, maybe it was something else – but Peter had the feeling there was more to his story than met the eye._

_Maybe, he sometimes thought, it took one to know one._

_Either way, it wasn’t his place to ask. Despite telling him the had a file on him, Dev hadn’t poked around in his past._

_One day – they had just brought in a lamia for questioning – Dev mumbled to himself, “Dad wouldn’t have been satisfied with that arrest.”_

_They had both almost been eaten, so Peter agreed, although he couldn’t help but jump at the chance. “What does he do?”_

_“He’s a policeman” Dev replied courtly and wandered off to do what he had set out to do. Peter wondered if perhaps they didn’t get along._

_It would have explained a few things._


	13. Chapter 13

He’d known Dev would be waiting for him on his doorstep. “I’ve been a fool, haven’t I” he said as Peter approached him.

“It was understandable.”

“It was idiotic. Every time I do something like that, the chance that he’ll remember grows. I should be more careful.”

Peter would have told him that he already remembered, but what good would it do? He had done what he had done to ensure that DI Thursday wouldn’t do any thing to hurt Dev, not to make it even worse. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

Dev gave him a half-smile. “Don’t you always?”

Yes, he usually did. When things got ugly, or too much, or too depressing, they always had tea.

“I shouldn’t have reacted so badly” Dev told him once they were sitting in Peter’s kitchen with their drinks. “I knew it was coming –“

“You had no way of knowing when or how.”

“Still. I should be used to it by now, don’t you think?”

“Trust me, there are some things you just don’t get used to” he said simply.

Dev looked at him then, eyes full of sadness and pain and a longing for the home he’d lost so long ago, and nodded.

It wasn’t much, but for tonight, it was enough.

* * *

Despite everything, he almost forgot again. When he woke up in the morning, Fred couldn’t remember why he felt strangely upset. It was only when he went into the living room and had a sudden, startlingly clear recollection of a fourteen, a fifteen, a sixteen-year-old Dev doing his homework at the very table he was currently staring at that he recalled.

O God, was all he could think as he stared into the corner where a piano should have been standing. He had almost forgotten his oldest son. _Again_.

He swallowed and did his best to pretend in front of Win and Joan that everything was fine. They noticed something was going on, of course, but thankfully seemed to think he was preoccupied with the case.

And yet, Win unknowingly delivered another blow when she handed him his sandwich. “And try and get that boy over for dinner, will you? If he’s as exhausted as you say…” She echoed his words from yesterday.

“I will try my best” he managed to answer, his throat dry. Jakes was right, of course – the least thing he wanted to do was to torture Dev with what he couldn’t have; and yet – how he longed to take care of him, like in those by-gone days only he and his son could currently remember.

But he couldn’t. And it was this, he thought as he drove himself to the station, that hurt the most. He couldn’t reach out to him; he couldn’t let him know; and above all, he couldn’t make him feel better.

Dev and Jakes were already there, working on something. “Have you got something?” he asked, finding it almost impossible not to let “son” pass his lips as he talked to Dev; but thankfully he didn’t notice.

“Perhaps” Dev said. “When we talked the case over last night, we decided that, considering Waters was not an Army sympathizer, he might have left notes, anything really, to prove that they had approached him.”

Last night – because neither of them had been able to sleep. Fred himself had only drifted off at dawn. “Evidence, you mean.”

Dev nodded, and Fred couldn’t help but worry about the open hatred in his eyes as he answered, “Yes. If it exists, it might just be enough to destroy them, once and for all.”

But it was natural, wasn’t it? They had stolen them from him, they had taken away his family; of course he hated them. Fred hated them for it too, and his hatred hadn’t had a chance to foster and grow like Dev’s had.

Jakes obviously noticed something was the matter with him and soon found a possibility to unobtrusively follow him into his office. “How are you holding up?” he asked simply.

He was once again not exactly treating him as one should a superior officer, but under the circumstances, Fred didn’t mind. It was rather clear that he was seeing if he still remembered, too. “As well as can be expected, I think” he said. “How is Dev?”

“As well as can be expected” he repeated his own words back to him. “Mostly he wants the Army dealt with once and for all.”

He frowned as he said it, and Fred wondered if he, too, feared the same thing he’d just come to consider – that Dev might go to far in his quest. “We’ll need proof.”

“Like he said, we are working on it.”

A pause followed. Then, Fred began, “I don’t know how much –“

“Oh, he told me everything. Not right at the start, of course; it was all just bits and pieces, back then.”

He could just imagine that from what he knew of Morse, but not from what he remembered of Dev. He’d always been open, with a clear mind but a trusting heart. Small wonder the spell had ripped that away from him.

“Just as well we know, really” Jakes continued, proving that the members of the Guard working the case were well aware of what was going on. “Someone had to pick him up after he was shot and you left him standing there on that empty field, for example.”

He closed his eyes. Just as he had feared.

As he opened them again, he added, “He missed you very much.” Fred wondered if this was Jakes’ idea of giving comfort. If it was, it wasn’t working. “Still does.”

Small wonder. He and Joan and Sam had always been very close. With a sudden surge of pain, Fred recalled that Dev had been the only one who was allowed to call him Sammy. “I need more information. How exactly does this – spell work?”

Jakes sighed. “We’ve been trying to figure that out for a long time. I know Dev’s never really stopped researching it. It was intended to kill him and something went wrong, we know that. It also makes it almost possible to figure out how to get rid of it.”

And it meant that in a few days at the most, he wouldn’t know he had three children once more. He’d go about his day convinced that Dev was nothing but his bagman, and his boy was the one who’d have to live with it. Fred, now only too well remembering that at one point he had known rather well that magic existed, and had been more than aware that his own son was capable of it, eventually asked, “But certainly there are counter spells for this kind of thing?”

Jakes smiled at him then, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “And what makes you think he hasn’t tried everything he could think of?”

He was about to answer when the door burst open, and Dev burst in. “I think I’ve got it!”

**Nineteen years ago**

**Dev was fourteen when they realized he wasn’t like other boys. And not in the way that they would have already claimed – by being far smarter and more well-behaved than they could ever be – after all, that was probably what most parents thought about their offspring, although Fred firmly believed it was true in their case.**

**Really, if Win hadn’t accidentally stumbled across the kiddies one day, they would never have known. But one evening as he came home she told him “We need to talk.”**

**“Where are –“**

**“In Dev’s and Sam’s room. I told them we would be eating a little later than usual.”**

**She sat him down in a kitchen chair and poured them both a cup of tea. “Today I heard Sam laugh and say “Again!” as they were playing in the garden. At first I didn’t think anything of it, but then I grew curious – you know Dev loves to surprise them.”**

**He nodded.**

**“As it turned out, Dev was busy making a few leaves and twigs dis- and reappear as Sam demanded.”**

**“What do you mean? He was hiding them?”**

**She shook her head. “No. Like I said, he was making them dis- and reappear. Sam relay liked that trick.”**

**Fred stared at her as the penny dropped. “Are you saying – Dev’s got magic powers?”**

**He knew about magic because he’d encountered it during a case as a young copper in London once, but that was about it. He had never even imagine that one of his children could be born with such abilities.**

**Then again, if anyone would be, it would be Dev.**

**“He looked up and saw my face”. Win’s expression fell. “I think he believed I’d be angry. I pulled him into a hug and told him it was alright.”**

**Thank God for that. The last thing Fred wanted was one of the kiddies thinking they’d be in trouble for something they had no control over. “Did he tell you how long he’d been able to do all of that?”**

**“No. I didn’t ask. I figured it would be best if you did it.”**

**He nodded. He just had to make sure their boy knew they weren’t angry at him.**

**Despite Win’s assurances, all the kids seemed subdued during dinner. Joan and Sam apparently had got the impression that they were the ones who got Dev into trouble, and he looked contrite.**

**Fred sincerely hoped he could do away with that.**

* * *

**He didn’t have to come get Dev past the kiddie’s bedtime. As he had half suspected he would, he came to Fred as he was filling his pipe.**

**“There you are, son” he said.**

**Dev sat down next to him, and to his dismay, his eyes were shining. “I’m sorry.”**

**“Oy.” He laid down his pie and drew him into a hug. “You don’t have to be. Magic’s just a fact of life. So you happened to be born with powers. It doesn’t matter.”**

**Dev sniffed as he drew back. “I was worried you’d be angry.”**

**“Never, Dev. Not about something like this. Now, if you were busy breaking windows after school or shoplifting, that would be one thing…”**

**“Why would I do that?” he asked, genuinely curious, and Fred once again marvelled at how well they had managed to raise their oldest.**

**“Some people have strange ideas what a fun time is” he told him. “So, how long have you been doing magic?”**

**“About a month” he admitted. “I didn’t know what was happening, at first. Then I started experimenting, to make sure I didn’t do anything wrong.”**

**Really, sometimes he sounded far older than his years.**

**“Sammy caught me at it, and of course he told Joan, so then I had to show them tricks. I never did anything dangerous with them around, though.”**

**“I didn’t expect you would.” He decided to ignore the fact that he hadn’t done anything dangerous _with the others_ _around_ for the moment. **

**“I didn’t really know what to do” he finally confessed. “No one I know has powers.”**

**“I met the director of the magic school hereabouts once, during a case” Fred remembered. “I could ask him to take you into one of his classes.”**

**“I don’t really want to change schools” he said quietly.**

**“You wouldn’t have to. It’s extra classes, just to make sure you have everything under control”.**

**“That would probably be a good idea.” Dev hesitated. “And what then, Dad?”**

**“Well, you can decide what to do then. You can pursue a magical career, but you don’t have to. We certainly won’t force you to.” He wondered if Connie’s family had any history of magic. He’d never asked, and she’d never volunteered the information.**

**Dev hugged him, then. “Thanks, Dad.”**

**“No reason, son.” He ruffled his hair; he didn’t protest as he had now and then been wont to do since he had turned thirteen. “I’ll call him in the morning.”**

* * *

**None of them were surprised when Dev made quick progress at his magic lessons. He wasn’t all that interested in learning more, but things could always change. Either way, he soon had a firm grip on his magic, with little to no danger of him harming anyone or himself.**

**One day, Fred came home to find him dangling a piece of paper Sam had been colouring on just a little over his head using his powers. He was about to intervene when he realised both their smallest and Joan were laughing at his antics.**

**“It’s unfair, Dev!”**

**“Oh no” he deadpanned, “You are right. Let me just put it somewhere you can grasp it…”**

**And the paper flew onto their highest shelf.**

**Fred left them to it with a smile on his face.**


	14. Chapter 14

“What is it –“ he almost slipped up and called him Dev again. Despite the fact that the lad he had told him he could, he had stuck to Morse at the job, and he would probably get suspicious if he changed it now.

“Here” he passed him what looked like a blank piece of paper. “I think Waters was indeed collecting information to pass to us. Trying to do the right thing. He was keeping records of their meetings.”

Fred stared at the paper. “Did he use invisible ink?”

“No, magic” Dev said matter-of-factly. “He used a spell. I almost couldn’t detect it myself.”

Fred wondered if he had had more training after leaving home or if he’d learned things as he went along; probably the first, considering he had been chosen to head the Guard.

“So what does it say?”

“I have to do a spell first. And I have to make sure that no one comes to harm.”

“Could it be dangerous?”

“He would have made sure that anyone who tries to read it against his will would be affected by magic” Dev explained.

“We better be especially carefully” Jakes said. “In case this is a trap – that the Army has figured it out to and tries to take one of us out with it.”

“Can they do that?” Fred asked out loud, then realised how stupid he sounded. Of course they could do it. This was magic they were talking about.

“Yes they can. And” Jakes turned to Dev, “I am not going to perform another last minute rescue spell.”

Last minute rescue spell? _Another_? Dear God. What had his boy been through in addition to losing them when he was barely grown?

“That was the one time.”

“Still”

“I know what I am doing” Dev said, rather sharply.

“Of course, sir” Jakes said, looking at him calmly.

He took a deep breath. “I know.” They didn’t have to say it out loud; they obviously knew each other long enough to know he hadn’t meant it.

“Well, then, I’ll gather the ingredients –“

“Matthew’s had a special protection hex bag on him for the past few days” Jakes said quickly.

“Of course he has. Let’s go, then.”

* * *

The worry with which the other members of the Guard regarded Dev led Fred to believe that the last minute rescue spell had been a close call indeed. It was equally clear, however, that no one dared to stop him.

“Now, if something goes wrong, you need to get all out of here within moments” he instructed them.

“Not my first rodeo, Dev” Jakes said quietly.

He nodded. “Of course.” But he was barely paying attention. He as focusing on the piece of paper with an intensity Fred knew well from their normal cases, when everything that held him up was determination and the will to see it through to the end.

And naturally, he now had an even bigger motive than usual to solve the case.

And suddenly, Fred Thursday was scared.

 _Don’t do it, son_ , he wanted to say. _That way… it’s not a good one. I would have died that day at Blenheim Vale if it hadn’t been for you. And I would never have known I had another son grieving for me._

But he couldn’t.

“Where’s the mandrake root –“

Sergeant Haddon pointed it out to him. “Thank you. Actually, the spell ion itself is rather simple. The problem are the protections he undoubtedly put up…”

Fred only half-listened, instead focusing on watching him assemble the ingredients for the spell; at least his hands weren’t shaking and he didn’t betray any visible agitation. But that in itself could be a problem too; Fred knew very well that sometimes, no rage was as intense as that which burned cold and for a long time.

Plus, Jakes was definitely feeling apprehensive and loathe as he was to admit it, he knew the man Dev had grown to be better than Fred.

Fifteen years. Fifteen years of his son changing, growing up, building a career, and he had missed it all. He hadn’t even been able to properly say goodbye to his little brother when he had gone into the Army.

Dev began to chant. The ingredients in the bowl started glowing as he waved his hand over the paper in an elegant pattern that Fred definitely couldn’t recall from his magic lessons – and they had told each other everything, back when they had been a family.

Yes, he must have continued his studies. It was a small wonder; he would have, in order to try and see if he could get them back. Plus, his work had probably required it.

Fred hated how little he knew of his own child’s life.

Suddenly, there was a flash and when he looked down on the table, the paper was gone; instead, there was a notebook lying there, and –

Dev was leaning over it, panting heavily.

Fred was at his side in an instant. “Is everything alright, s- lad?”

Thankfully he didn’t notice his slip-up. “The protection spell” he panted. “It took a lot of energy to –“ he coughed.

“Oy, that’s it. You are lying down in my office for a few minutes.”

He looked scandalized. “But sir –“

Every time he called it that, it felt like a slap in the face. “No buts.”

“He’s right, Dev, we’ll go through it, make sure there are no more spells” Jakes said. “Five minutes won’t make a difference.”

Not for someone who had already waited fifteen years, Fred thought bitterly as he escorted his boy to his office. At least he could walk on his own.

The next few minutes were spent watching the Guard do more spells before stealing back to his office. His hope that Dev would be asleep and resting wasn’t fulfilled; instead he was standing at the window, staring out at the city they had both worked so hard to protect, may it be in the police or the Guard.

“You should be resting.”

“I did rest.” He sounded flat.

“Still” he tried, “Those protections spells – they sound dangerous. And you need to keep your wits about you if this leads us to the Army.”

First, nothing. Then, very quietly, He replied, “I know, Dad.”

**Ten years ago**

_He and Dev grew rather close over time. It was probably only to be expected – not only did they work together all week (and sometimes on weekends, when there was a magical emergency, and there were quite a lot of those) but they were also close in age, although Dev was a bit younger than him._

_Certainly too young to be dealing with everything Peter learned he was dealing with, one day._

_He’d forgotten to hand him a file and had decided to drop by his flat after he’d finished a few other inquiries. He’d never contemplated working for the police before Dev had offered him the job, but he had to say he was rather talented, even if he thought so himself._

_By now, he was expecting the soft music he could hear through the door._

_What surprised was that his boss and friend, as he was slowly coming to call him, opened the door with tears in his eyes._

_He thought quickly. He could have ignored it. He probably should have. Dev most likely wanted him to._

_But._

_But._

_In all his time in this great, grey city, there had only been one man who had helped him out, had given him a job, had slowly but surely broken down his walls, and he was looking at him now. “Dev? Is everything alright?”_

_He cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, thank you.”_

_It bloody wasn’t. He could tell from his voice that he had been crying. “Here” he passed him the filed. After an awkward silence, he added, “And if you ever want to talk...”_

_Dev hesitated. “I…” he swallowed. Come in.”_

_He did._

_“It’s the music” Dev explained._

_Jakes listed but didn’t understand. Literally._

Vater, Mutter, Schwestern, Brüder  
hab' ich auf der Welt nicht mehr.  
Kehrt ich auch zur Heimat wieder,  
fänd' ich alles öd' und leer.  
Ja wenn nur noch Eins am Leben,  
das sollt' eine Freude geben  
das sollt' eine Freude geben.  
Oh, wie süß und oh, wie schön,  
wär' ein solches Wiederseh'n  
Oh, wie süß und oh, wie schön,  
wär' ein solches Wiederseh'n.

_German?“_

_He nodded. “It’s from a German opera. Undine by Albert Lortzing.” After a pause he explained, “It’s about… the singer has lost his family. And he knows he won’t ever get them back, but at the same time, he can’t help but imagine what it would feel like.”_

_That sounded a little too… well… personal for it not to be connected to Dev in some way. He was about to ask when he muttered to himself, “Bloody hell, I need a drink.”_

_This was not a good sign. Dev usually drank orange juice in pubs, unless it had been a very taxing day, and he certainly didn’t have any hard liquor at home._

_“Let’s go to my place” Jakes suggested. “I’ve got some whiskey.” Much as he hated to admit it, sometimes he needed the help to fall asleep._

_Dev’s wide eyes told him that he had guessed as much, and probably quite some time ago._

_At least he calmed down on the walk, although it was easy to tell that he was still upset._

_Once he had poured them their drinks, Peter didn’t know what to say. Eventually, he decided to simply ask. “So you lost your family?”_

_“Lost…” Dev muttered, taking a sip and promptly starting to cough. After he had stopped he continued, “Yes, you could call it lost. Although_ stolen _would probably be the right word. Taken, too.”_

_That didn’t sound like they had been kidnapped. He knew by now that Dev liked to be precise. In the beginning, he’d even marked grammatical errors in Peter’s reports. They had quickly come to an understanding that it didn’t help either of them. “Taken? By whom?”_

_Dev looked at him. “You have heard about the Army of Morality.”_

_Of course he had, by now. One couldn’t work in the magical field for too long before one did. Peter had yet to meet a member, but from what he knew, he wasn’t eager to. “Yes.”_

_“I –“ Dev took another sip of his drink. “I learned pretty early on that I had magical abilities – noticed when I was fourteen. My siblings loved it when I showed them tricks.” He sounded wistful. “And the Army – they like to recruit people who can perform magic.”_

_“Seems a bit contradictive if you ask me.”_

_“Not if they want to destroy the others while using their own “weapons”, as they put it, against them. One of them came to call on my a few days after my eighteenth birthday. I refused to join. I wasn’t – I didn’t exactly plan on pursuing a magical career –“_

_“Well you failed that expectation rather spectacularly.”_

_He didn’t smile as Peter had hoped. Instead he continued, “The next day, I met a few of my mates from school. We’d just graduated, you know. When I tried to return home… my family had no idea who I was, and no matter how often I told them, it would slip out of their heads again.”_

_Bloody hell._

_He pulled at the chain Peter had noticed he always wore around his neck. “This is all I have left.”_

_It was a key. It looked normal enough, but when Peter carefully touched it, he realized it was ice cold._

_It couldn’t be comfortable to wear around the neck, but he probably wanted the reminder._

_“I…” he didn’t know what to say._

_“It’s alright”. The way he let the key drop sop that it dangled in front of his shirt clearly indicated that it wasn’t. “It was five years ago.”_

_“Still, Dev. I’m sorry.”_

_He nodded, looking away. “They were amazing” he suddenly blurted out. “Mum was very kind, and smart, and generous. Dad’s a police officer; he’s the best man I’ve ever known. And Joan and Sam were so clever and funny…”_

_And Peter understood that he hadn’t had anyone to talk to about his family like that for quite some time._

_So he sat there in the dark and listened. It was all he could do._


	15. Chapter 15

At first, he believed he‘d misheard him, but then he realized. “Dev?”

He turned around, smiling a joyless smile. “Yes?”

“You knew?”

“As soon as you walked into the squad room this morning. I always know when you remember. You are my _dad_ ” he said, still in that quiet tone of voice.

He was.

“Was it Peter?” he asked and Fed nodded.

“He’s over-protective” he mumbled.

 _Someone ought to be_ , Fred thought. He did what he had wanted to do since the moment he remembered and reached out to him. “Son –“

To his surprise and dismay, he squeezed his eyes shit and moved away. “Don’t.”

“But Dev –“

“No, please, don’t –“ he swallowed. As he continued, he wouldn’t meet Fred’s eyes. “I – I know it’s selfish of me but – you won’t remember. But _I_ will.”

Dear God. He softly repeated his name and laid a hand on his arm.

Fred had been in the war. And afterwards, through his job, he had seen some of the worst things human beings could do to each other during supposedly peaceful times. And yet he didn’t think he’d ever felt as bad as he did when his son wrenched himself out of his grasp with a desperate expression on his face.

He didn’t know what to do or say to make him feel better, and if anything, that realization made him feel ever more wretched.

“I’m sorry” Dev said.

“Don’t apologize”. _Anything_ but that. Anything but him taking responsibility for what the Army had done to him, to them.

“I missed you all so much” Dev suddenly said, and it seemed like the words were wrung from him almost against his will. “I kept forgetting, in the beginning. Not like you had – I would wake up, and I would start looking for Sammy, and then I’d recall that I – that I –“ he still wouldn’t look at him. “I had to – I used to pretend that you were all dead. That something terrible had happened, like a car accident, and that was the reason. I think – I think I went a bit mad for a while.”

How he longed to comfort him.

“But I had to concentrate on my studies. The Chairman had made that clear. After a while, it helped, to have something else to focus on. And then there was the Guard…” He stopped talking abruptly and walked back towards the window.

Fred was silent for a few moments, then he asked, “How long?”

He shrugged with feigned indifference. “The first time, you kept slipping back and forth for a week. I think it was stubbornness, mostly.”

It sounded like something Fred would do. He had already owed to himself that he would do his outmost to ensure he didn’t forget his oldest again.

“The second time… you were in the hospital. I have no idea how long it would have lasted, otherwise.” His voice sank. “If you hadn’t remembered, we might have paid better attention and you wouldn’t have got hurt.”

Bloody hell.

With a few decisive steps he was standing next to him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around.

Finally, father and son were looking at one another.

“Dev – I don’t know for how long I will remember. But there has to be a way out of this. There has to be.”

A cynical smile. “I haven’t found one in fifteen years.”

“I don’t care whether you figure it out in give years or fifty, But you will. And when you do – _when_ you do – you will be welcome home, no matter the time.”

There were tears in his eyes that he was resolutely blinking away. “Thank you.”

But he didn’t call him Dad again.

Dev took a deep breath. “Can we not tell the others? The other members of the Guard know anyone, and it wouldn’t make a difference.”

Wouldn’t make a difference. Fred forced himself to stay calm and nodded. After all, Dev was right – he wasn’t going to be the one who had to live with this.

And yet, there was something he had to say, something he had to do before they left his office and had to pretend to be nothing but two policemen working together again.

Right before they reached the door, he touched his elbow. “Dev, wait. There’s something… I want you to know that I am proud of you, son. Prouder than I could ever express. You lived through all of this, and you built up the Guard, and you’re one of the best men I ever met.”

This time, Dev didn’t quite manage to hold it in, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. He didn’t answer. Perhaps he couldn’t.

* * *

Peter knew something had happened the second they stepped through the door. Dev looked like he’d been through the wringer, and DI Thursday scarcely better.

Dev had found out, then. He had desperately hoped he wouldn’t. He didn’t think Thursday had told him, though; no, he had probably guessed, knowing his father as well as he did.

As they passed Peter, Dev squeezed his forearm, his way of letting him know there were no hard feelings. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“What have we got?” Dev asked.

Haddon, who had been studying the notebook, said, “I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but I think this is a breakthrough.”

“You always mean to sound dramatic” Foster answered him, “But I tend to agree.”

“What do you mean? What is it?”

“Waters kept a detailed record of all his meetings with the Army. Seems like he considered himself something of a double agent.”

Dev swallowed. “You mean –“

Peter stepped in. “This” he told them, “Is what we need to bring them down.”

* * *

The Army was not as big as Dev and Peter had always feared, it soon transpired.

He couldn’t believe it. After all those years, they were finally within reach.

And if he could arrest the members of the Army, then perhaps; but he stopped the thought before his eyes could drift over to Dad and betray him.

**Seventeen years ago**

**Dev at sixteen wasn’t much different from the Dev they had watched grow up in their house until then. Fred had heard countless horror stories from his friends and colleagues, but puberty mostly seemed to breeze by. He certainly wasn’t annoyed at his siblings, and he didn’t start shouting or screaming at either him or Win.**

**Yes, sometime she would grow rather grumpy and sulk, but that was about it. Fred had learned to guess what mood he was in by the music he was usually playing when he came home. Strauß and Verdi were a good sign, Satie was not.**

**It might have sounded a little strange, but it worked for them.**

* * *

**Fred had been made Inspector a short time ago.**

**Some cases, he had quickly learned while working for the police, were worse than others; but this –**

**He knew that boy. Cory Soames. He hadn’t exactly been a friend of Dev’s, but they’d been in the same year, and they’d kicked around a football a few times – when Dev had felt like it, since he vastly preferred to spend his free time at home with the kiddies.**

**He wasn’t given the case of course since he had known the victim, albeit fleetingly; but as he drove home that night, all he could think of was that young face, so unnaturally still, silenced forever before he ever had a chance to truly live.**

**And then his imagination presented him with Dev’s face looking like that, and he had to stop the car and calm down.**

**The first thing he did when he arrived home was sweep Dev into a crushing hug. When he drew back, he saw the puzzled expression on his face that meant he was unto something, but he said nothing.**

**He said nothing until Dev came to him that night. He was sitting in the living room, trying to fill his pipe with shaking hands.**

**“Dad?” the young voice piped up. He hadn’t heard him come in.**

* * *

**“Cory?” Dev repeated as if he couldn’t believe it.**

**Fred knew the feeling.**

**He bit his lip. “He has three younger siblings.”**

**Fred didn’t know if that made it better or worse.**

**“Is there anything I can do?” he looked at him with wide eyes.**

**“You are doing it” he told him.**

* * *

**The next morning, tugging him into a corner so he was safely away from young ears, Fred told him to be careful when walking home from school. He promised to do so.**

**Still, he could only truly breathe again when Gregson caught the killer three weeks later.**

* * *

**Life went on. The children continued to grow. Despite the age difference between then, they were very close, and neither Joan nor Sam seemed to be happy unless they could include Dev in their various pastimes. The lad, to his credit, never complained.**

**One day, he overheard his son and daughter arguing about some colouring they were doing.**

**“But the river has got to be blue.”**

**“You know what the river looks like, right, Joanie?”**

**“Of course!”**

**“And, is it blue?”**

**That seemed to puzzle her for a few moments. Then she asked, “How come everyone paints it blue, then?”**

**Dev obviously didn’t know the answer to that question since several seconds elapsed before he said, “I have no idea.”**

**“It’s stupid to do something just because all the others are doing it” Joan decided with all the wisdom of her eight years. “I am painting it brown.”**

**“That is a very clever decision, Joanie.”**

**Fred smiled to himself.**

* * *

**At another time, he found Dev and Sam sitting together, quietly leaning over the table.**

**What he found was Dev making a few pictures from Sam’s favourite picture book move using his magic. His little brother watched, utterly enchanted.**

**“A new trick?” he asked.**

**“Learned it yesterday.”**

**“It’s better than the movies!” Sam cried, but then he thought anything having to do with Dev was automatically better than other things that didn’t include his adored older sibling.**

**Dev was smiling rather proudly. “It’s easy once you know how it’s done.”**

**“That’s usually how it works” Fred replied, looking down at the pictures. He had never imagined a future when one of his children could do spells when he had met Win. But, then, he hadn’t imagined becoming a father right before being shipped off to fight the Germans, or that his boy would turn out to be one of the kindest, smartest ones he had ever met. “How do you do it?” he eventually asked.**

**And Dev happily explained all about it to him while Sam still watched the pictures.**

* * *

**One day, he came home to find Dev helping Win dry the dishes while telling her all about school and realized just how close his wife and son were. They couldn’t have been closer if she had given birth to him herself.**

**Later that night, he thanked her for it.**

**She tutted. “Oh, that’s nothing, Fred – I raised him, so he is my son too. And” her eyes softened. “I like to think that Connie would approve.”**

**“I’m sure she does, pet, wherever she is.”**

**She kissed him.**

* * *

**Dev definitely had Connie’s colouring, and her eyes and nose too; and sometimes, at night, they would speak of her. It was natural that he was curious, especially now that he was in his teens.**

**Fred didn’t pretend it had been a grand love affair. His clever boy wouldn’t have believed that anyway, but he did understand that they had been fond of one another and that Connie had loved him from far away.**

**And he never strayed once from calling Win his mum.**

* * *

**All in all, Fred reflected shortly before Dev’s seventeenth birthday, life had gone rather well after Connie had announced that she was pregnant. At that very moment, he had believed he would lose Win, and instead here they were all those years later with three wonderful children.**

**The laughter of the kids drifted through the window to the garden and he smiled.**

**He had no way of knowing that the time would come when that very life he had just been contemplating would be irrevocably changed.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, please? :)


	16. Chapter 16

Dev was going through the notebook. Fred registered with relief that he was now moving with the efficiency and professionality that he knew so well.

Jakes hovered near him unobtrusively, obviously ready to intervene whenever necessary. Fred was glad that his boy had at least found a loyal friend and commander to work under him.

Even with the members of the Guard pretending they didn’t, it was clear all of them were wondering if perhaps they could get Dev his family back once they had dealt with the Army. Despite remembering now that it existed, and what his son used to tell him when he came home from his lessons, Fred didn’t know much about magic, but he could only hope fervently that this was true.

They needed their boy back.

“Alright” Dev decided. “Someone clear the white board. We need to write this down.”

Haddon was already moving, Foster was looking for a pen, and Ford was getting ready to type it all up.

Strange and Trewlove moved towards the white board too.

“Alright. There is Octavia Stevens” he said, “We knew that.”

Foster wrote the name down and Dev’s eyes lingered on it for just a bit too long.

“You have met her before then, matey?” Strange asked, unconsciously slipping back to the use of his nickname for Dev as they were talking of something private.

“Yes” he said courtly. “She was the one who tried to recruit me. She came to our home.”

Fred remembered, now; that evening when he’d returned and Win had told him about the strange woman who had visited their son – “She downright scared me, Fred, and it’s a small wonder, considering what she wanted” – and how proud they had been for him doing the right thing and refusing.

“And then she tried to get rid of me and well” Dev shrugged. “You know how that ended.”

Strange nodded. “And can she…” he trailed off. It was just like Jim strange to say out loud what everyone was thinning.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Something must have gone wrong when she did the spell…” Another one of those mirthless smiles Fred never wanted to see again crossed his face. “We were all younger then, and less experienced.” He looked down at the notebook. “It doesn’t say where she lives, but I doubt someone who was only just beginning to work his way up the organization would have learned that.”

“I doubt anyone except for her closest allies know where she’s located” Jakes said.

“I could perhaps try a psychic reading…” Haddon began, and Fred recalled that he apparently had psychic abilities, but Dev shook his head.

“They shield themselves well, and God only knows what just the attempt could do to you, Sergeant. It’s not worth it” he mumbled, then frowned as he kept going through the notebook. “Wait – Oscar Lamour?”

“The lawyer!?” Ford asked.

“Never heard of him” Fred said.

“Magical beings need lawyers just like humans do” Dev replied automatically. “He was definitely not on my list of potential Army members, though.”

Knowing him, he’d probably complied it and then obsessed over it for years.

“Wouldn’t have picked him as one, either” Jakes said. “Always seemed like a decent bloke to me.”

“Guess not everyone can be as obvious as their dear leader” Haddon supplied. “When she tried to recruit me, I swear to God –“

“Same here. Those eyes, I could have – she didn’t even blink once, I think” Foster replied.

It was then that Fred realized that Dev had chosen those to accompany him during this case very carefully indeed. He was ready to bet all of them had had the chance to join the Army and refused.

And of course, Jakes was his best friend.

The list of names went on. Most of them were apparently “little fish”, at least that was how Dev saw it – and the rest of the Guard seemed to agree; they were left with five big names and one address.

“I would really have thought that a lawyer would know better than to let someone he wasn’t sure of yet know his address” Trewlove said, “Is there any chance this is a trap?”

“Oh, most definitely” Dev answered matter-of-factly. “I’d be surprised if it wasn’t. It most likely cost Waters his life. Which is why we have to be careful.”

If not for the fact that he was obviously such a competent leader, Fred would have laughed. The constable he had come to know and being careful –

No, not the constable, he realized with dread. His son.

He was already slipping again.

Dev seemed to guess what he was thinking, but of course he did. He probably knew him better than anyone apart from Win. He shot him a glance that was not without sorrow, and not without resignation, either; and it was Jakes who intervened by asking an obvious question that distracted him for a moment.

* * *

When it became time to act, Morse was as professional as he could be. Foster and Strange would stay well behind, guarding the house so they could act in case the need arose; Morse himself, Jakes, Haddon, Trewlove and Fred would move in. Safety in numbers, he called it.

Safety. As if Morse –

No, not Morse. _Dev_.

“It’s quite alright” he suddenly said, standing next to him. Fred hadn’t even noticed he’d walked up to him, assuming he was still busy with the preparations for the raid of sorts they were planning. “Don’t fight it. It will only take some strength you might need, and it won’t help in the long run.”

Easier said than done. But then, he was used to it, wasn’t it? What a terrible thing to grow used to, heartbreak.

But before he could answer, Dev stepped away.

* * *

The house looked… normal. That in itself wasn’t a surprise, but Fred felt it was rather a let-down. Then again, the Army wanted everyone to be “normal”, didn’t they?

As if Morse and his men hadn’t done exceptional work.

“What now, Morse?” he asked, failing to understand the concerned look Jakes shot him.

“Let’s try a direct approach. He knows us, after all; we’ve worked together a few times.” He sounded disgusted. “Me and Peter will go first, you’ll move in afterwards.”

“Be careful, lad” he cautioned him.

“Why should I start now?” He sounded surprisingly bitter.

**Ten years ago**

_Six months after Peter had agreed to the job, they finally found some other recruits. Or rather, Dev found them._

_It didn’t surprise him that his boss had a knack for approaching those who had already been talked to and were reasonably scared of the Army. Who but him, after all?_

_Richard Haddon was the first who joined their ranks. He actually ran a psychic shop not far from their office, offering readings to anyone who was interested; Peter had certainly seen him around before._

_The problem was that one day he told a woman to be careful, and the next day her cat had died. Peter certainly saw no correlation between those two things – as Dev would have said – but people who were upset didn’t always think straight, and soon, they were called in to deal with a small group who had met in front of Haddon’s shop._

_“He killed my cat!” the woman was shouting._

_Dev stepped up to her and showed her his ID. “Captain Morse of the Guard, ma’am. Would you like to make a formal complaint?”_

_She blinked and seemed to realize that she didn’t have any evidence. “Well, I –“_

_“Because I am sure Mr. Haddon here” he nodded towards the window, where the owner’s pale frightened face was clearly visible “Would rather continue with his day without being lynched.” He was clearly being sarcastic, but the woman actually appeared horrified._

_“I never –“_

_“Well, then we don’t have a problem, ma’am, do we.”_

_Dev had grown rather used to occupying a position of authority since the founding of the Guard, and so Peter left him to advise the woman about psychics and their actual abilities and worked on quickly dispersing the crowd. By the time they were gone, Dev had sent her away and slipped into the shop._

_When Peter entered, he knew immediately what they were talking about. There was only one topic that made Dev’s shoulders tense like that._

_“I should probably have told you before” Haddon rushed  out in what Peter would later learn was an uncharacteristic display of anxiety, “But my first instinct was not to get involved…”_

_“Quite understandable, Mr. Haddon” Dev said, “Quite understandable.”_

_“The Army?” Peter asked and Haddon nodded._

_“I just told the Captain here. A woman came here a few days ago, tried to recruit me.”_

_He and Dev traded a glance. They clearly suspected the same woman. Octavia Stevens._

_“She – she had the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen.”_

_“Sounds like her” Dev said, frowning, his own eyes growing hard and dim._

_“Do you think…” Peter began, then trailed off._

_“Oh, it’s definitely possible she has something to do with the cat dying and making Mrs. Spratt suspect Mr. Haddon, yes.”_

_Haddon swallowed._

_“Don’t worry” Dev said soothingly, “I am sure we can boost your protections.”_

_But despite them doing just that, Haddon obviously felt there was more to be done, for two days later he handed in his application._

* * *

_Granted, as close as they had grown, Dev didn’t know Peter’s history yet. But that would change soon._

_For, finding that both of their leases were about to expire and that they would be able to afford a bigger flat if they put their money together, they agreed to do just that._

_And that was how Peter found himself with a flatmate for the first time in his life. Really, Dev wasn’t bad company, and he had grown used to his music by now; but there were other things he hadn’t considered when agreeing to move in with him._

_“Peter!” A hand on his shoulder as he woke up in a cold sweat. A reassuring voice in his ears. “Peter, you’re safe.”_

_He sat up. In his dreams, he had been back at Blenheim Vale; back where it had all started –_

_“I’ll put the kettle on.”_

_“To be honest, I think I’d like something stronger” he replied, and Dev complied._

_Once they were sitting down on the couch with their drinks, Peter began, “There is something you don’t know about me.”_

_Dev had given him a job, a purpose. He deserved to –_

_“You don’t have to” he said. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to.”_

_And to his surprise, he found he did. “I –“ He swallowed then drained his drink in one gulp._

_And then he told him. Told him the whole truth._

_Afterwards, Dev was silent for a few moments, then began, “I know this doesn’t help in any way, but I am sorry.”_

_He nodded. “I know.” And he did know._

_“So –“ Dev cleared his throat. “Have you ever thought about finding any of them? For revenge?”_

_There was an expression on his face quite unlike any other Peter had seen before, and he knew then, knew that he would one day have to make sure that Dev didn’t do anything stupid when it came to the Army._

_And then he realized that he didn’t mind. “Revenge wouldn’t change a thing” he said simply._

_“No it wouldn’t” Dev agreed, but there was still something, something behind his eyes that told Peter of too many nights spend alone dwelling on what he might do if he had ever met those responsible for his suffering._

_He knew the feeling all too well._

_“I’ll think I’ll have that cup of tea now, if you don’t mind” he said and the expression disappeared from Dev’s face as he made sure he had everything he needed._

_And just for the night, they might still have been rather scared, and worried, and living with bad memories, but at least they were not alone._

* * *

_It had been, as they well knew, only a matter of time before the Army found out about them. Really, Peter thought as he woke up in a dark room, it was almost a relief to learn that they were finally attacking them._

_“Peter?”_

_“Dev?”_

_At least they were in this together. And of course, they had others working for the Guard now, too._

_“You don’t happen to have a lighter, do you?”_

_“No.” He’d quit smoking sometime after joining the Guard when it had been obvious that Dev didn’t like the smell in the office, even though he’d refrained from saying so._

_“Well, as long as –“_

_But Dev was interrupted by the voices. Sharp, vicious voices, whispering in their ears, talking of giving in and giving up; that, Peter could have dealt with, but then they started talking about Blenheim Vale, telling him things he’d never even disclosed to Dev, and he pressed his hands against his ears and screamed –_

_Suddenly, the voices stopped. Dev was grasping his shoulder, breathing heavily. “We have to move. The counter spell won’t hold for long.”_

_He must have been despairing then, too. Dev, for obvious reasons, avoided using his magic whenever he could._

_“We need to get out of here!”_

_For some reason, they made it without anyone barring their way._

_As they studied the house they had been trapped in, Dev shook his head. “They weren’t trying to get rid of us this time. They wanted to see how strong we were.”_

_How strong he was, Peter thought. And then he thought of the voices. And then he thought,_ You just saved my life again _. But he didn’t say it out loud._

* * *

_Soon afterwards Matthew Foster appeared – or rather, was chased into their headquarters by an angry mob who were somehow convinced that the woman he’d been drinking from hadn’t wanted him to, when the opposite was true. He, too, had been approached by the Army, and this was the last straw – he applied for a job on the spot._

_“After all, if we show people that we can police ourselves, they might think the Army is overreacting.”_

_In Peter’s experience, he was probably putting a little too much faith in humanity at large, but solving cases all over London is certainly easier when having colleagues instead of working by themselves._

* * *

_About two weeks later, Sally Ford applied for a transfer from the regular London police. As a banshee, she had been targeted by the Army because they thought she'd be more amenable to their cause since many humans had prejudices when it came to creatures like her. The opposite was true._

_Yes, their numbers were definitely growing._

* * *

_The nightmares still kept coming, and he suspected they would for his whole life. But now that he had a friend, they were easier to deal with. Dev usually woke up from his screaming, and by the time he made his way into the kitchen, he was making tea. Peter couldn’t help but think that nights like these had been the ones where he had sometimes wished that he could…_

_In other words, he was rather sure Dev had saved his life already more than twice._

_In return, Peter listened on the bad days when he couldn’t help thinking of his family._

_“It’s Dad’s birthday today” he told him one morning over breakfast, looking utterly forlorn. “Last one I spent with them, me and my siblings saved up for his present.”_

_He chose to say nothing. He had learned that most of the time, Dev just needed someone to sit there and quietly keep him company._

_“He always said he didn’t need any presents, because he had us, and that was all he could ever wish for. But he was happy every time. He loved surprises, you see.”_

_Now and then, he referred to his family in the past tense, but he’d slip in present tense from time to time, too. Peter wasn’t sure if it was healthy or not, but then, he could hardly begin to understand what it was like to be forgotten by those one loved most._

_Dev still wore the key around his neck. Peter rather suspected that he always would. It had remained ice cold to the touch. While they still thought it must be a consequence of the spell, but didn’t quite understand its significance. And after all, Dev had been looking for an explanation for over five years, now._

* * *

_They continued to work. Whenever Peter had another nightmare, whenever Dev remembered what it was like to be part of a family, there was always more work to be done, and sometimes it helped and sometimes it didn’t, but still – things had to be dealt with._

_Slowly, they were acquiring a reputation. The people of London, at least those who knew about magic, didn’t seem to be as reluctant anymore as they once had been to ask them for help; and it wasn’t difficult to see that most of that had to do with Dev and his endless campaigning._

_True, the Chairman also helped. He visited them regularly; Dev and he would barricade themselves in the former’s office._

_Peter wasn’t quite sure what to make of their relationship, and Dev never offered an explanation. He himself always felt rather uneasy in his presence; he could have sworn he’d never seen the man blink._

_Still, things were going rather well._

_And then they went wrong._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later upload, but longer chapter - it all comes out even.  
> Also, I am rather sure this is starting to read like a Morse/Jakes story. Oh well.


	17. Chapter 17

To say that Fred was worried would have been an understatement. Dev was organizing their going to the lawyer’s house while they were being side-lined. That in itself was easily explicable; after all, the Guard were the experts where magic and the Army were concerned – and yet – and yet –

He didn’t want his son to go in there. He didn’t want _any_ of his children to go in there.

With a shudder, he realized that for the past ten minutes, he’d been thinking of Dev as Morse once more. This spell was more powerful than he had believed it to be.

It also made him feel ashamed. How could he have forgotten his own son again in such a short time?

“Alright, we’re going on. Me, Peter and Inspector Thursday will try first; Haddon and Trewlove, stay back and see what happens” he ordered.

Fred could do nothing but go with them and hope for the best.

Lamour was at home and opened the door on the first knock. “Captain Morse and Commander Jakes! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His eyes flicked over to Fred, and he was certain that neither of his companions missed the knowing look n them.

“DI Thursday” Dev introduced him. “Of the Oxford City Police.”

“Of course… you are policemen as well. Please, do come in.”

He led them into the living room, another completely normal-looking piece of a house that he would never have imagined belonged to someone who knew all about magic. “Now, what can I do for Oxford’s finest on this fine day?”

Fred didn’t know if it was because he knew now what he was, or because he was truly sketchy, but something about Lamour rubbed him the wrong way. Coming to think of it, it was probably the first – after all Dev and Jakes were no amateurs and they had never suspected him.

“It is about the Army of Morality” Dev said carefully.

“The Army? I am afraid I don’t know a anything about that. I mean, I am just –“

“We know you are a member, Lamour” Dev interrupted him, eerily calm. It was clear that there was no room for denial.

Lamour threw his head back and laughed. “So you finally figured it out?” He turned to Fred. “What about you, Daddy dearest? Do you know? Do you know why Endeavour Morse is no one but Endeavour Morse?”

His expression must have given it away, for he laughed again. “Ah, but not for long, will you? Just a short time, and you’ll have forgotten all about your own child once more –“

He only realized he had moved when Dev caught his arm. “Don’t, Dad.” It was the word Dad that made him see reason. “Will you come willingly?” he asked the suspect.

He shrugged. “I see no reason not to. You have no evidence.”

Dev’s smile was frosty. “You may be surprised.”

* * *

He _was_ surprised. In fact, he was rather dismayed when he found himself being confronted by the evidence in Waters’ notebook, which meticulously recorder their meetings, the names of the members he had met and his attempts to get closer to the core of the group.

“That’s just the imagination of a crazy person” he tried to argue.

“Is it?” Dev, who was interviewing him with Fred, asked quietly. And then he leaned forward. “Because right now my men are ransacking your house – and they will find evidence there. No one can plan to bring down an entire part of the population without leaving traces.”

He was still calm – too calm. There was something about Morse’s being quiet that had always troubled Fred; as if now and then, he was only too ready to explode. And he should know. It was a charge that could very well be levelled against himself, too.

At least Jakes looked worried, now.

* * *

“I want everything in this house to be gone through –“ Dev was saying once more when the phone rang. It was Trewlove who answered.

When she hung up, she asked, carefully, “Captain?”

It seemed she, too, had noticed the mood the lad was in.

“Yes, what is it?” He sounded impatient, and he’d certainly never used that tone of voice when talking to Trewlove before.

“They think they found something.”

* * *

It was a scroll that had been hidden behind a secret panel in Lamour’s bedroom. It was also written in Anglo-Saxon, apparently.

“Who could possibly –“

But Dev was already leaning over the evidence. He had always been good at languages; seemed like he had picked up a few more since he had been turned out of their homes by the army.

Still, Fred didn’t much care for the expression on his face, and neither, it seemed, did Jakes. “Dev, do you need help –“

But he was fiercely scribbling away into his notepad, muttering to himself. “Abomination – purity – dragon –“

Alright, the last thing they needed were _dragons_ to deal with.

He looked up. “There’s an address. Octavia’s address.”

“This is all too easy” Jakes snapped before Fred could. “This has to be a rap.”

“I am aware” was all his son said as he got up from having crouched down to translate the scroll.

“Dev” he tried softly. He looked up.

“I thought you’d forgotten again”. It sounded more accusatory than he meant, Fred was sure.

“I did, but then I remembered. Can we talk?”

Jakes was already moving out of the room. “Peter you don’t have to –“

“No, Dev, I think you really need to talk.” And then he was gone.

Dev sighed. “We don’t have time –“

“Revenge is not a good motive to arrest someone. Or do something lese.”

What he saw then was the closest thing to a sneer he had ever seen on Dev’s face. “All du respect, _sir_ , but you haven’t had to live with the knowledge I’ve carried for fifteen years.”

It was there and then that he made a vow.

When push came to shove, it would be him who killed Stevens, so his child wouldn’t have to.

**Fifteen years ago**

**None of them were surprised when Dev obtained not only high marks upon leaving school, but also a scholarship to Lonsdale. There were times when Fred wondered if he could be any prouder of his son. Joan and Sam had started to tease Dev about being a real scholar – good-naturedly, of course – and he often answered in just the same way.**

**They didn’t quite have the money for the car Fred knew he secretly dreamed of, but they did get him a new record player for his eighteenth birthday. On the morning of it he woke up and wondered where the years had gone. He knew that he had grown older, but sometimes he felt as if no time whatsoever had passed and he was still the young PC desperately in love with a girl he thought would reject him when she found he had a son by someone else.**

**They let Dev sleep in. It was a Saturday anyway, and his birthday on top. Even Sam had taken extra care to sneak out of their shared room. An impressive feat, since Dev was prone to wake up the second his little brother stirred and check up on him.**

**This time, however, he had managed, and Dev finally came downstairs someday after ten am to accept birthday hugs from them all. Not that he normally didn’t; all the stories Fred had heard about teenagers growing distant in their formative years had proven wrong, at least when it came to their oldest. It was to be seen, but he hoped that Joan and Sam would follow his example.**

**“Is that –“ Dev had seen his present over Fred’s shoulder and apparently lost the ability to speak.**

**“Yes. We thought you’d like a new one; God knows the old one from Aunt Reenie has seen enough service time, hasn’t he?” he asked.**

**Dev nodded, still staring at the Decca. Then he moved to hug them all again.**

* * *

**He was still enjoying his new record player, preparing for college and playing with his siblings when his life was changed forever, and simply because he wouldn’t do the wrong thing when asked.**

**Dev had heard about the Army of Morality. He hardly could have visited magical school and not done so. Their teacher had always spoken of them with a voice dripping with derision, and Dev had never understood why someone who could do magic themselves would try to abolish it.**

**He had certainly never contemplated a magical career; he was going to get his degree and then he was going to work for the police, like Dad. He was grateful for his powers, if only because they had often kept Joanie and Sammy entertained, but that was it.**

**And then _she_ came. **

**He was reading in his and Sam’s room when he heard the bell ring out and then Mum call for him. There was a certain tenseness in her voice he only understood when he saw their visitor.**

**She was very thin, and very pale, and in many ways, quite beautiful. Her green eyes bore into his. He swallowed and unconsciously moved closer to Mum.**

**“Dev, this Octavia Stevens. She said she wanted to talk to you about magic” she said carefully, and he understood that he didn’t have to talk to her if he didn’t wish it, but he considered it best if he heard her out and then sent her on her way.**

**He didn’t like the way she looked at Mum one bit, and he was sure Dad would not have liked it, either.**

**So he led her into the living room. “Would you like some refreshment?” he asked politely, like his parents had taught him.**

**“No thank you, young man.”**

**She really didn’t look much older than thirty-five at the most. Much later, he would find out that this had rather magical reasons and that for her, many people were nothing but young men or women.**

**He wondered how to politely asked her what she wanted.**

**She sat down without invitation. “You are probably wondering why I wanted to talk to you.”**

**He nodded, judging it prudent to remain standing. Those eyes…**

**“I am sure you have heard of the Army of Morality?” she asked and he simply nodded again.**

**She smiled. “We are interested in people who can perform magic. And we know you’ve been to the school for lessons on how to control your powers…”**

**He forced himself not to take a step back. It was bad enough that a member of the Army was in their home; but did she – was she –**

**She proved his suspicion correct when she added, “We have also learned that you don’t seem to keen on using your powers.”**

**Where were they getting all their information from? And him not wanting to use it all the time had nothing to do with magic itself, really. He just wanted to be like Dad, eventually. “I am not interested.”**

**“You haven’t heard my offer yet.”**

**“I don’t care”. He stared at her. “Magic isn’t evil. There is nothing you could say that would convince me.”**

**She studied him for a moment, then replied, lightly, “There really isn’t, is there.”**

**She let soon afterwards without protest and only later, on a lonely night, would he think that had been strange.**

* * *

**When he told Mum, she told him he had done the right thing and hugged him to her tightly.**

* * *

**He believed that was that. He didn’t like that the Army knew who he was, or that they had reached out to him; he certainly didn’t want to give the impression of a sympathizer; but certainly his rebuke had been strong enough, and they would leave him alone, now. Octavia Stevens could continue on her mission that was doomed to failure, and he could live his life.**

**He had no idea that just a short time later, his refusal would mean that his life would change in a way he could never have foreseen and that he would have to live with for years to come.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the end, friends! Who's excited?


	18. Chapter 18

“Dev –“ he tried again. He had been down this road before. And the last time he had ended with a bullet in his chest.

Dev had come to his aid, then, and he would be damned if he let his son make a decision like that all on his own.

“It’s not the first time I have done this. I can deal with them.”

“Doesn’t mean you should have to” he pointed out.

“That may be, but there is nothing I can do about it now. There is nothing anyone can do about it. Don’t think Peter hasn’t tried.”

At least Jakes was there too, to keep an eye on him. “Promise me you won’t put a bullet into the first suspect we encounter?”

“Only if you promise not to punch them.”

“Oy you little – “

At least it made Dev smile.

Fred took a deep breath and reminded himself once more of what he had learned and yet always known, deep down.

They would simply have to deal with this, and then they would find a way to reverse this spell.

* * *

“I am going in” Dev decided as soon as they entered the squad room.

“You can’t just go in there alone –“

“He isn’t” Jakes said and Fred understood that _I’m going in_ was nothing but a way of telling the members of the Guard that their Captain and their Commander were going to deal with this together.

“I am coming with you” he decided. Dev looked like he wanted to protest but knew better.

“Do we even know what expects you three in this woman’s house?” Superintendent Bright, who had joined them for their final discussion of the case before they acted, wanted to know.

“No. That’s the thing about magic. She could have rigged it with all sorts of spells.”

“And that even though she wants to eradicate it. Fighting fire with fire, aren’t they.”

“They always have, sir” Dev said, reading the whiteboard with an expression that Fred remembered from – remembered from…

It was going away again. He was losing him _again_.

“You will have to be careful” Haddon, who as it had turned out was the Guard’s expert on protection spells, announced. “I will assemble a few more hex bags, just in case.”

“No “just in case” about it” Foster volunteered. “God alone knows what awaits the Captain and the Commander.”

Fred don’t mind that he didn’t include him. Of course he was more worried about his two superior officers than him.

“It is said that she has several large traps in her home” Ford said. “At least that’s what I heard. Mostly what we’ve been able to assemble about the Army has been nothing but rumours and gossip.”

“Don’t I know it” Morse said darkly, but who could blame him? They had after all stolen his family from him, and him not being more than a boy of eighteen…

Something niggled at the back of Fred’s mind. “Well then” he said because he couldn’t figure it out, “No time like the present, I say.”

* * *

Octavia Stevens had chosen a house in one of the oldest parts of the city as her abode, most likely because, as Morse explained, they were the most saturated with magic, which meant they were the easiest to protect with spells.

As they drove there, Fred couldn’t help but think that Morse seemed a little more agitated than even the circumstances warranted. He wanted to ask but then met Jakes’ eyes in the rear-view mirror and read a warning in there he couldn’t understand.

Again that niggling at the back of his mind. If only he could have figured out what it meant.

* * *

He remembered just in time.

They were looking at the house. No one appeared to be home, but with magic, as Morse had explained, you could never be sure.

This time, it was Morse squinting up at the windows that did it.

_Squinting like he used to when he did his homework, or when he checked over Joan’s and Sam’s to make sure –_

“Dev, a word?”

Jakes glanced at Morse to make sure he was alright with it, then discreetly distanced himself from them.

“We don’t know how dangerous this is, do we.”

“Oh, we do. Incredibly so.”

Fred hated that he could say it like that, almost flippantly, because he was used to such missions, because this was his life, a life over whose greatest change he had been given no control over.

“Now the hex bags should protect us from the worst” Dev repeated information they had been given at the station, and Fred realized that he was trying to cut the conversation short. “And once we are in, our first priority will be to find the wardings she has undoubtedly pout up so no one can take her away and –“

“Dev.”

He gently reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “I just wanted to tell you to be careful, alright? If not for yourself, then for me and Mum and Joan and Sam.”

He nodded. “I will do my best.”

It was probably the best he could expect.

He squeezed once more before letting go. But as he turned to call Jakes back, he heard him quietly say, “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, son” he replied automatically as he had that night so long ago when they had been chasing monsters.

Jakes stepped up to them and shot Dev a look that clearly asked if he was alright. He nodded.

* * *

At first, Fred thought they had gotten lucky. The door wasn’t locked and opened as Dev knocked.

But the second they stepped through –

It was pitch black. Fred couldn’t see a thing. He called out to the others, but they didn’t answer.

“Dev? Dev!” But neither his son nor Jakes appeared to hear him.

In the next few moments, something because very clear: First, the house was bigger on the inside – he’d already been walking around for several minutes, and he had yet to find a door – and two, he was completely and utterly alone in the darkness.

**Three years ago**

_The last seven years had been full of work and sometimes frustration but also, Peter had to admit, now and then –  quite wonderful. The Guard had gained a reputation of trustworthiness and an excellent case solving rate, and Dev was considered the protégé of the Chairman of the Council._

_He and Peter still lived together because it was convenient and they had found no reason not to. This meant – perhaps it had been inevitable – that there flat had become something of a base away from bae for both the Guard and magic users who needed help. It was strongly warded, of course, nobody could get in who wanted to cause them harm._

_It was on a stormy night at the end of December that they caught a break about the Army._

_Dev, as Peter had suspected, was obsessed with the Army of Morality. It was hardly surprising, and normally, he managed to prise him away from his files when things got too intense. But he had never forgiven and never forgotten. Peter couldn’t imagine that anyone would have._

_They had just finished up another case and were now drinking tea in their kitchen, rather fatigued but otherwise content, when there came a knock on their door._

_It was the Chairman. Peter always felt rather wary in his presence, Dev seemed to have no such misgivings – or at least he could hide them better. “Captain. Commander. May I come in?”_

_He refused a cup of tea and sat down at their kitchen table as if he just wanted to drop by for a chat, but Peter knew better. The Chairman always had an agenda. “There have been some recent… developments. Concerning the Army.”_

_Dev’s hands tightened around his cup._

_“As you know, we have been monitoring their activities for a while – those we knew about, at any rate – and it seems now certain that Octavia Stevens didn’t just come to Oxford to try and recruit you all those years ago, Dev; no, apparently the Army had already decided by then it was safer to do their work in Oxford. There is lots of magic to be found there, too.”_

_“The Army is in Oxford?” Dev asked, obviously alarmed._

_“Your family is safe. You do not have to worry about that.”_

_Of course he worried, but there was little use trying to explain that to the Chairman, who neither seemed to have nor miss a family or friends of his own._

_“So we have decided that it would be best if someone were to check out the branch they’ve built up there.”_

_“I see” Dev’s voice rang flat. IT too Peter a moment to catch on._

_“You want to send him back there?”_

_Until now, Dev had refused to go within twenty miles of Oxford. He claimed he wouldn’t know what to do if he met any member of his family, and quite frankly, that was only too understandable._

_“We need an expert. And Dev has been handling things well so far.”_

_Peter opened his mouth to object – but Dev beat him to it. “It’s alright. If it helps bring the Army down… What would I be expected to do, Chairman?”_

_“First of all, we would need a way to monitor crimes committed at Oxford. As you well know, some people still live in blissful ignorance as to magic, so it is always possible that they simply don’t realize the Army has committed a felony and report it to the police.”_

_Peter was beginning to understand where this was going and his heart sank._

_Dev was obviously feeling the same, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes were fixed on the Chairman’s face, his own set in a frown._

_“Therefore, it would be best if we could get someone inside the Oxford City Police.”_

_The bloody Oxford City Police. The very place where Dev’s Dad worked._

_If he went there, he couldn’t fail to meet him._

_How could the Chairman possibly –_

_“I’ll do it.”_

_Peter turned to him. “Dev –“_

_“No, Peter. If this is a chance to get the Army – if there is a chance, then I have to do it.”_

_The Chairman’s expression suggested that he had seen this coming and for a moment, Peter hated him for it. “Good. Due to your age, I am afraid we won’t be able to get you a higher rank than Detective Constable, not even with my contacts.”_

_Dev breathed a sigh of relief; in secret, Peter did the same. Constables rarely worked with inspectors._

_The Mary Tremlett case a little while later gave them the excuse they needed to send Dev back home, although he simply shrugged when Peter referred to it as such._

_“It_ was _my home. It’s not anymore.”_

_“What are you going to do –“ he broke off. They might not end up working together, but it was almost certain that he would run into Inspector Thursday at some point._

_“Your guess is as good as mine” Dev said with a half-smile. “I’ll just have to remember that my name is Morse when he asks.”_

* * *

_He did very well, of course. That had never been in question._

_And yet, despite the Chairman apparently seeing it as a success, Dev came back pale and shaken. “I worked with Dad.”_

_Dear God._

_“He asked me to return and be his bagman.”_

_Blood hell. Bloody,_ bloody _hell._

_It was then and there, watching Dev frantically look for any record that might calm him down, that Peter made a decision._

_Yes, the Guard could be run from Oxford as well as from London. He might have been the logical choice to head it in the capital while Dev was doing his best to build up an outpost in the city of dreaming spires and tried to juggle his responsibilities as Captain with his attempts to figure out what the Army was planning, but he wasn’t going to._

_If his best friend was going to where he would have to see his father every day and know that he didn’t recognize him, then Peter would go with him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am ready to admit I had a little too much fun with Jakes and Morse being best friends.


	19. Chapter 19

He couldn’t bloody see a thing. And he was rather sure that he had landed in a maze.

Plus, he was convinced that the only thing that kept him from being hit by several spells at once were the hex bags Haddon had supplied. He hoped Dev and Jakes could gold onto them.

He couldn’t just stand around and do nothing. He moved in.

He carefully opened the next door he came across – ever since he had walked down that big room, he had encountered, what, seven doors? Eight?

Behind this one, at least there was a lamp burning behind it.

But he did get a knock on his head and it all went dark regardless.

* * *

He had been an idiot. He should have known better. Or he should have come alone. Instead, he had brought Dad and Peter in danger because he couldn’t wait to deal with the Army once and for all, and to teach Octavia Stevens a lesson she would never forget.

No one, not even Peter, knew that he had another small hex bag with him, one that would damn her to as painful a death as Waters’ had been.

It was a terrible thing to do of course; it was murder; and yet part of him wanted to do it, wanted to do it desperately, the part of him that gad fostered and grown and become cruel and hardened over fifteen long years.

Maybe he would manage to spare her life. If he found Dad and Peter, they would probably keep him from doing it.

* * *

Bloody, bloody, bloody hell. He should have known better. He _had_ known better. And yet he had allowed Dev to lead them right into the lion den.

He would have followed him no matter what. He had the terrible feeling that he was indeed out for revenge, and someone would have to stop him.

But he couldn’t stop him when he was stumbling through the dark in a maze.

Ah. Thank God. A door. Finally –

He stepped through and fell.

His last conscious thought was another _bloody hell._

* * *

He could have sworn he heard someone yell, but it was too far away to recognize the voice or do anything.

He bit his lip. He had to quickly.

And then he entered another room that was brightly lit.

Octavia Stevens was sitting on a chair. It was the only piece of furniture. “Captain Thursday. I have been waiting for you.”

For so long, he had longed to have someone address him as such, and from her, it sounded like an insult. “We have come to arrest you” he told her simply.

“Arrest me? Whatever for?”

“Conspiracy to murder” was his simply answer. His hands slipped into his pockets and he balled a fist around the hex bag. _Hold her down and shove it into her pocket_ , a dark part inside him whispered.

“And we? I can only see one member of the Guard here – or did you bring someone else? Someone very close to you, perhaps – two someones?”

She hadn’t changed since he had last seen her, fifteen years ago. As beautiful as a rose, as deadly as a snake, as dangerous as a ferocious tiger. “Where are DI Thursday and Commander Jakes?”

“We are still pretending, I see. You don’t have to worry – your friend and your _father_ are quite safe for the moment. Did he remember, by any chance? Did you get a chance to talk to your Dad again, Dev? Did he hug you and comfort you and promise everything would be alright?”

Forget the pocket. He wanted to stuff the hex bag down her throat. He wanted to watch her choke, to see the light go out of her eyes. “You know what the spell does.”

“Do I now?” Her eyes were almost glowing as they stared at him, unblinking, in the dim light.

And he understood. “It wasn’t a botched spell at all, was it” he stated flatly.

“Oh no.” She fished a small bottle out of her pocket. “I assume you know what that is?”

His blood ran cold. “You wouldn’t dare.” Dark potions such as this one – potions that could upset the very moral fabric of someone’s soul, turn them into something evil and vicious – had been outlawed centuries ago.

Her eyes still hadn’t left his. “Actually, I think your question should be why we don’t use practical solutions like this more often. There’s an explanation, of course. I know you were meant for greatness, Endeavour Thursday, when I first laid eyes on you. There was just one problem.” She walked over to him. He considered trying to sneaking the hex bag into her pocket, but didn’t think it would work. She would notice, surely?

She smiled and tapped on his breast. “Your heart. Your weak, human little heart. So soft. So caring. But we have ways of changing that, have we not? You see, for this” and she held the potion up “to work, someone has to already have known the bitterness of life, has to have despised something or someone. And the spell did just that, didn’t it? You’ve hated us for years. Your soul has hardened and darkened while it fostered. The potion will work now.”

“You wouldn’t dare” he repeated, feeling helpless, knowing deep down that what she was saying was true. The innocent boy who had left his home years ago was long gone. He had walked into this house prepared to _murder_ someone.

“Oh, I would. You know I would. We need you. We need you to stop the spread of magic. We need your powers. And so…”

“You will never get me to drink that.” No matter what happened. He would use the hex bag on himself first.

“I won’t? How interesting. Because, here is what I can do.” She leaned forward. “Do you really think the Council’s little counter spells would have kept _them_ safe, if I hadn’t chosen to wait?”

He swallowed.

“I see you understand. I knew you were smart.” She smiled another smile, a horrible smile, a smile that gave no comfort whatsoever.

“I managed to wipe your existence from the minds of those who loved you the most. I can wipe out their _entire_ existence. And for good measure, I’d do the same to Peter Jakes. So what do you say, Endeavour? Either you join us or everyone you have ever loved will never have existed.”

**Fifteen years ago**

**They day on which he would lose everything he held dear began like any other. Dev woke up at the same time Sam did and they all had breakfast together.**

**He would later often think of this last family meal he’d ever share with them, of their laughter, Dad’s terrible jokes, Sam’s and Joan’s happy squeals and Mum’s kind smile.**

**As always, he hugged Dad goodbye before he left for work, and he would always be glad that he did.**

**He’d promised to meet up with some of his friends from, school; they were going to spend the day in town, maybe catch a movie. Dad had given him some money yesterday, claiming he had earned it since he’d scored so high when he’d graduated.**

**Joan and Sam had made him swear that he’d spend the next day with them to make up for it and they now showed up to see him out of the house, smiling brightly.**

**Mum reached up to fix his collar. “Mum” he sighed.**

**“There, there. Now you look like then proper young gentleman that you are.” She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead.**

**In countless sleepless nights, he would remember that moment, the last time a motherly gesture was bestowed on him.**

**“Now off you go. Have fun.”**

**He didn’t look back as he walked down the street, and he would fail to forgive himself for that even years later.**

* * *

**They met in the park to play football. Dev wasn’t very fond of exercise, or sport in general, but he did watch matches with Dad, and playing it was kind of fun. Plus, Toby and Jules were there, and they were what Dad had dubbed his “best mates.”**

**“Your Old Man still proud enough that he’s going through the ceiling?”**

**“Shut up Jules, you are just jealous that you barely scraped through.”**

**“And you are cosying up to the future Oxford don.”**

**It was clear they were only bantering, and Dev simply let it wash over him. He was used to it from home. Instead he concentrated on kicking the ball as well as he could and hope it would at least go in the right direction.**

* * *

**It was a beautiful day at the beginning of July. Tomorrow, when he would fulfil his promise, he’d probably take Joan and Sam to the park too. They loved feeding the ducks in the lake.**

**Toby and Jules had only nodded when he told them of his plans. They knew how close he and his siblings were and had long ago stopped making any jokes about babysitting for free.**

**Too bad it wasn’t the weekend yet. They could have taken Dad with them. Maybe he could talk Mum into accompanying them, though.**

**He was currently the goal keeper for his team, a task that was not that difficult since they were dominating the others and he hadn’t had to touch the ball for the last ten minutes. He didn’t mind. He was people watching. He would soon get to do that a lot, of course, at college. He still couldn’t quite believe that he had made it into Lonsdale. Soon he would be sitting over thick books and learn and study and make sure that he would be prepared well for when he entered the police force.**

**Dad had told him that he didn’t have to do so, of course. He would never have forced him to become a policeman. But Dev had wanted to do this since he was a small boy, and his opinion had never changed.**

**Yes, he could imagine his life would change quite a bit in the next few years, but soon he would be working with Dad, like he’d always wanted.**

* * *

**They got something to eat and then went to the theatre. The movie was fine. He still preferred listening to opera, but his friends enjoyed it, and Joan and Sam would like him to tell them all about it, too.**

**Yes, he reflected as he strolled down the street that evening, it had been a good day.**

**Although he was really looking forward to one of Mum’s homecooked meals. Maybe he, Joan and Sam would read something afterwards. Either that or whatever popped into the kiddie’s heads. It was usually fun.**

* * *

**He frowned as he pulled his key out of his pocket. It felt strangely cold.**

**Still, he opened the door and walked in. “I’m home!”**

**Weird. Normally, Joan and Sam came running.**

**He walked into the living room and found them playing. “Joanie, Sammy, I’m home.”**

**They ignored him. “Joan? Sam?”**

**They seemed too busy to hear him, so he grabbed Joan’s arm and she immediately started screaming. “Mum! Mum! There is a stranger in the house!”**

**“What –“**

**Mum came running. “What are you doing in here, young man? How did you get in?”**

**“Mum? It’s me, Dev.” He didn’t understand.**

**“I – “ she shook her head. “Dev?” Then her face hardened again and she repeated, “How did you get in?”**

**Joan and Sam were now hiding behind her, and despite his attempts to explain, he couldn’t make any of them listen to him.**

**All he could do was flee.**

**Was this a joke? But they would never play such a cruel prank on him.**

**He hung out on the street, desperately waiting for Dad. He would fix this. He always did.**

**Eventually, a car arrived and a PC dropped him off. Something like a sob of relief broke out of Dev as he rushed towards him. “Dad! Mum, Joan and Sam don’t know who I am –“**

**He later wouldn’t be able to recall everything he said, exactly. All he knew was that he was scared, and lost, and needed Dad to make it better like he had when he was a little boy.**

**But when he stopped for breath, Dad was frowning in him in that way he reserved for trouble makes. “Look, I don’t know exactly what you are trying to say, but you better run off home.”**

**_But this_ ** **is _my home_ , he wanted to say. Yet, when he saw there was no recognition whatsoever behind Dad’s eyes, he didn’t. He _couldn’t_. **

**And Endeavour Morse, who didn’t know that this would be his name for over a decade to come, turned around and ran.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a twist you didn't see coming, right? Right?


	20. Chapter 20

Fred came to Jakes shaking his shoulder. His first words were “Where’s Morse?”

He blinked, then looked at him with something like pity; however, it was gone in an instant. “I don’t know. Not here.”

They were in a room that looked remarkably like a holding cell. “We need to get out of here.”

“I’ve already tried; the locks won’t budge.”

“Any chance you could use a spell?”

Jakes shook his head. “I’ve tried, but of course she must have warded it against any such attempt.”

She must have, and now she was alone with Morse doing God knows what to him.

Fred thought quickly. “Anything we can do with the hex bags?” As far as he had understood, hex bags were quite a different piece of magic than spells.

Granted, if they dissembled the bags and used them to open the door, they would no longer be protected from any magical traps they would find themselves in, but how much worse could things get?

Jakes cursed. “I hadn’t thought of that” He immediately started tearing the hex bags out of his pockets. “There must be myrrh and cowslip in here somewhere…”

Fred watched as he worked as fast as he could. “There. If we burn that in front of the lock…”

Fred took out the watches he used to light his pipe.

And then they were running down another dark corridor, focused on finding Morse.

* * *

He couldn’t.  He couldn’t. Ever since he had visited his after-school lessons, Dev had ben aware that he was somewhat more powerful than he had let on; first, he hadn’t been interested in exploring this further, and after what had happened, he had been careful to keep it a secret. He only rarely used his magic – only when there was no other choice; he knew what it could do to others, after all. Peter knew, of course, but that had been unavoidable.

And it seemed Stevens knew, too. God alone could guess what they would be able to achieve once the Army had him at their beck and call.

He couldn’t give in.

And yet he would. Fifteen years, fifteen long years of hoping and wishing and praying that he would one day be reunited with his family; sometimes that very hope had been all that kept him going; and she knew, she knew he couldn’t give it up, knew that he couldn’t sacrifice them, that the thought of Mum and Dad and Joanie and Sammy was the one thing he would never give up, that he’d rather lay down his life –

“Well?” she asked with a smile. “What is it going to be?”

He swallowed, thinking quickly. There had to be something, anything he could do –

But there was nothing. She’d known the years would wear him down. That was why she had waited so long in the first place.

He closed his eyes.

And yet – and yet –

He hadn’t become the Captain of the Guard for nothing. He hadn’t weathered everything that was thrown at him for nothing.

He felt something deep within himself sharpen, harden, a desperate thought becoming a conviction.

_Do what your family would have wanted. Do what Peter would have wanted._

He opened his eyes and the smile on her face froze.

“I think” he announced, “That it is increasingly likely that neither of us will leave this room alive.”

* * *

Even much later, Fred would never be quite certain how they had managed to find them. Even later than that, the Chairman would tell him his own theory on a dark night, a theory of blood calling for blood and a deep love within himself that had never been truly gone, just hidden reaching out. He wouldn’t know what to think of it than – or ever – but he would always be grateful that as he led the way, he found the right door to get to Morse almost immediately.

As they burst through, Stevens and Morse were studying one another and he had the horrible and probably true thought that if they had been a few minutes late, there wouldn’t have been anyone to save.

“Ah” she said, her expression turning from the nasty one she’d just been giving his bagman into a friendly smile, “Here are our spectators. Dev, would you like to tell Daddy Dearest the truth again or not?”

Daddy –

And it came rushing back to him. “Dev!”

“I’m sorry, Dad” he gently said.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.”

It was _her_ , her who had robbed them of their son, who had taken him away, sent him into the world without –

It was Jakes who caught his arm before he could take out his gun. “Don’t” he warned quietly, “She might have a few tricks up her sleeve.”

He knew it, and yet he hated the sergeant, too, for a moment.

* * *

Thank God for Peter. Dev didn’t even have to turn around to know what Dad had been about to do. “So what now?” he asked, making sure to sound carefully casual, “You just cram the potion down my throat?”

He thought he heard Dad gasp behind him.

“We both know it would work better if you took it voluntarily.”

Oh yes, he did know. He hadn’t studied magic so carefully for so long “Yes, but that’s not going to happen. No matter what you do.”

“Even if I tortured and kill your father and your best friend in front of you?”

“You must be aware that I would die before I let this happen.”

Something had changed within him when Dad had called out for him. For the first time, he had understood that his powers, despite being the reason everything had been taken from him, were an _advantage_.

“Alright then. In that case –“

And their powers clashed.

* * *

Fred had never seen something quite as remarkable as spells flying around at top speed, but he couldn’t have cared less. Dev needed help.

“Jakes?”

“She is definitely strong, and I’ve never been sure just how powerful Dev is. We need to get hold of her hands. No one can do magic without the right gestures.”

They looked at one another and nodded.

Ziggy-zagging between all that magic was probably one of the most difficult things he had ever done, but he didn’t care. And when he would tell Win about it later, he would admit that they should not have made it.

But by some miracle, they did.

She screamed as they jumped her, screamed and screamed and screamed, but her physical strength wasn’t nearly as powerful as her magical abilities, and they were two against one.

And yet, when they had her wrestled on the floor, she looked up and smiled again, a self-satisfied smile.

* * *

Dev was taking quick, deep breaths. They had done it. She was at his mercy.

And for a moment, seeing her smile, everything vanished but him and her and the hex bag still in his pocket.

He reached out to get it. He would watch her choke on her own blood –

“You better cuff her, Morse” Dad said and that should have been the final straw, another reminder, his best reason to do it –

But instead, he looked into her eyes and let go of the bag and her smile died once and for all.

Peter squeezed his shoulder, hard, and he knew that his best friend was aware of what he had been about to do, but that they would never speak of it.

* * *

Peter brought the now powerless leader of the Army back to the station, while he and Dad searched for clues with the help of the others, he slipping back and forth between calling him Dev and Morse; but he was too busy to pay him much attention.

For evidence they found. Enough evidence to get rid off the Army once and for all.

Of course he knew why. Stevens hadn’t believed that he would use his magic, everything he’d learned, against her, and if he was being honest, neither had he.

He all but ran to the nearest telephone booth, and half an hour later the Chairman and the other members of the Council arrived, having decided to deal with the Army themselves.

“Excellent work, Captain” the Chairman told him.

“Thank you, Chairman.”

And then something Dev would have sworn was impossible happened.

The Chairman of the Council bowed his head to him.

* * *

It must have taken them years to build up the Army of Morality, but it only took one afternoon to bring it down. Fred found the thought rather satisfactory.

Stevens sat in one of their holding cells, bound and gagged, but still looking haughty and proud.

Oh well. It didn’t matter now.

Morse was walking around the station as if he couldn’t quite believe it, and Fred couldn’t blame him for it. The ghost that had haunted him for fifteen years had finally been put to rest. Granted, he still had to figure out how to get his family back, but it was a start.

Towards the evening, when everything had been cleared up, the Army disbanded, Oxford been made a thousand times safer than it had been yesterday, the Chairman showed up to speak to Stevens. He made no objection. The Chairman must know what he was doing.

And so they left him alone with her at his request.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, he arrived back in the squad room. “Everything seems to be going satisfactory, Captain.”

“Yes, Chairman. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No; I will return to the rooms of the Council for now. You know where.”

Morse nodded. “Near Lonsdale.”

“Exactly. I bid you a good evening, Captain. Inspector.”

* * *

Five minutes, a shout brought them running to Stevens’ cell.

He could have sworn they had left her bound and gagged, and yet she had managed to cut her own throat.

She had somehow managed to look beautiful and evil even in death.

Morse looked down at her, then closed his eyes. “It’s finished, then.”

There was nothing he could say to that.

* * *

Peter knew immediately that something was wrong as they walked back to the squad room. He didn’t know if he should ask or not.

For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t read him.

Then suddenly, he said, “I thought it would be over. It was silly of me, but part was convinced that once we deal with the Army…” he took a deep breath. “But he still doesn’t remember.”

“Dev –“

“It’s all been for nothing.”

And for the first time since they had met, Peter was scared of him. Because he’d never heard him sound so resigned before. “Dev –“ he began again, only to be shocked when he suddenly doubled over and clutched at his chest.

“What – Dev –“

He rushed to help him and they both tore at the chain until the key was dangling in front of them and not touching Dev’s skin anymore.

“It felt scorching hot for a second” he breathed out.

“It’s certainly… not cold anymore” Peter said carefully.

Dev laughed then, but it was a hollow laugh, a hopeless laugh, a cynical laugh. “Wonderful. I do what the Chairman asked me to and get a warm key.”

And for one terrible moment, Peter believed that he’d break the chain and fling the key away; and with the intimate knowledge one acquired of someone one had been close to for a long time, he knew that they would have lost him, then.

But instead, Dev laughed once more, the horrible sound he never wanted to hear again making Peter’s heart twist in his chest, and tucked the key back into his shirt.

“We have work to do” he decided, and he didn’t dare to contradict him.

* * *

“I don’t have much to tell you, I am afraid, Inspector” Doctor DeBryn said. “It will have to be seen how she came to have a silver knife in her possession, but that is your job, not mine.” He looked down at the lifeless body of Octavia Stevens. “I do hope Morse will find some peace now, although of course there must be some satisfaction involved, under the circumstances. _In the morning glad I see my foe outstretched beneath the tree…_ ”

Fred nodded, feeling rather dizzy for a second; must have been the excitement of the day catching up with him. He’d been wondering himself how he was doing. Then he automatically said, “William Blake. A Poison Tree” as usual when Doctor DeBryn quoted something. One happened to learn a few things if one had a bookworm in the family.

He didn’t understand why the doctor seemed surprised, but Fred didn’t think much of it as he went into his office.  Let the others deal with this for once.

* * *

When he passed the desk closest to his office, Fred reached out and squeezed his shoulder as he was wont to do after hard cases. “Take care now, don’t overdo it.”

This time, he didn’t see his and Jakes’ astonished faces.

As he sat down at his desk to make a quick note in the file, he couldn’t help the feeling that something was off. He frowned. Everything certainly looked like it always did; the typewriter, his pipe, the pictures of Win and the kids – a portrait of Joan and a picture of Dev and Sam from a holiday on the sea side they had taken when their oldest had been twelve – the telephone…

_A picture of Dev and Sam!?_

In his haste to pick it up he almost threw several others of his belongings off his desk, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

**Three years ago**

_In the end, Peter demanded to be transferred to Oxford first, to know exactly how things stood, to learn how to act._

_Dev didn’t object, but on the morning of his departure, he quietly told him, “Look after them for me, please.”_

_“I will.”_

_It wasn’t much of a hardship, really. The flat the Council had obtained for him was comfortable, and the Old Man, as he soon came to know Dev’s Dad, was not difficult to work for. Sometimes, though, Peter found himself staring at his desk, wondering what it had even like when even more pictures of his children had been there, with some of them showing a boy with russet curls smiling brightly…_

_Dev arrived a few months after that, back home for good. They had kept in contact, of course, had even worked a number of cases, and they had already decided on how to portray their relationship._

_He had to admit that sometimes, it felt a little too good to be able to order his superior at the Guard and best friend around, and from time to time, he saw a certain twinkle in Dev’s eyes that he, too, quite enjoyed himself._

_It was good that he did, for it was not difficult to tell that working so closely with his father was taking its toll. DI Thursday had insisted on making him his bagman from the start; and even though he kept being sent back to regular police work, it was clear that Dev was struggling to stay at his side._

_They usually met up at pubs that lay so far out of the way that they had no chance of running into one of their colleagues._

_“How are you?” he bluntly asked him one day._

_“I’m fine. Cold’s gone”. He’d been sent home sick by Thursday two days ago, but was back on the job._

_“That’s not what I meant.” They had never really spoken about DI Thursday kind of remembering Dev was his son for a week after he truly arrived in Oxford, and Peter was starting to think they never would._

_“I’m still fine.”_

_A pause. Then, Peter slowly said, “The Old Man’s pretty decent. And Mrs. Thursday is very nice.”_

_A smile crossed his face._

_“Forgot to tell me how pretty your sister is, though, mate.”_

_It was the wrong thing to say; Dev’s face fell, and Peter almost cursed. He had had no idea what his sister looked like, back when they had lived in London; how could he? He’d last seen her when she was ten years old._

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t –“_

_“Don’t worry about it. She_ is _really pretty, isn’t she?” he said, wistfully. “And Sam’s very bright. They both are.”_

_He didn’t know what to answer, but Dev didn’t seem to need him to, anyway._

_Peter actually ended up going out with Joan a couple of times, for one because he figured out pretty quickly that she wasn’t looking for anything serious, and two because it was the best way to keep an eye on her and learn all there was to learn about the family._

_It was when she started flirting with Dev that the problems started._

_When he told Peter that evening, he looked slightly nauseous. “She – I think she would have liked me to kiss her. My own sister. My own baby –“ He buried his face in his hands and Peter was glad they had decided to meet up at his place instead of in public._

_“Hey”. He grabbed his slightly shaking shoulder. “She is not to blame, and neither are you. It’s the spell. That’s all it is.”_

_After a few moments silence Dev replied, his voice still trembling a little, “Yes. That’s all it is.”_

_It wasn’t, of course. But for one night, they could pretend._

* * *

_All in all, they rubbed along fine. There were a few hiccups, of course, times when the Old Man started yelling and Dev almost despaired, times when they both got injured, but still – it could have been worse._

_True, Peter could have done without some things. Like watching Thursday drive off with Dev, realizing that his own father could hardly bring him to his own bedside, and followed them, only to pick his best friend up on an empty field, looking paler and unhappier than ever._

_“Seems like he thinks my dad just died” was all he said._

_Peter took him to a doctor and made him stay at his place for a week._

_Still – things weren’t that bad._

* * *

_And then the spectre of Blenheim Vale reared its ugly head._

_Peter desperately wanted to be able to follow Dev that night. To help his best friend, his boss, the man who had saved his life again and again. But he couldn’t._

_And then DI Thursday was fighting for his life and Dev was in prison, and all he could do was visit him again and again with the news he managed to drag out of Superintendent Bright._

_Not that it mattered. DI Thursday recovered, and Dev was released, and then Dev was gone._

_Peter wasn’t surprised that he had run away. God knew that if it had been him, he would have done so much, much sooner._

_What rankled was that he hadn’t said goodbye, hadn’t even left a note._

_The Old Man found him eventually, of course, and Peter wondered if it had to do with some fatherly instincts not even the spell had been able to get rid of._

_He went to him that night. He had the feeling Dev had expected him._

_“Peter.”_

_“When are you coming back?” he blurted out._

_Dev wasn’t looking at him. “I don’t know if I can.”_

_“You have to!”_

_“To do what? For over a decade I have worked, and the Army is still out there! The spell is still in place! I still –“ he stopped and swallowed. “I’m not strong enough for all of this, Peter. I don’t think I ever have been.”_

_“Of course you are.”_

_“I –“_

_“Of course you are!” He all but jumped out of his chair; he couldn’t help it. “And do you know how I know that? I know because you saved me from a vampire the first time we met. I know because you woke me up when I had nightmares when before I used to spend those nights wondering if I should just end it –“_

_“Peter!”_

_“I know because you built up the Guard –“_

_“You helped me –“_

_“I know because I have seen you working and struggling and never giving up no matter what happens for years.” He calmed down, the admitted, “the truth is… I don’t know who I am anymore without you in my life.”_

_Silence followed. Then, Dev answered, “I could say the same, Peter.”_

_His eyes met Peter’s. “I_ will _come back. I promise. Give me time.”_

 _As always, the case wouldn’t allow him to take some time for himself, but he_ did _come back, and Peter could breathe again._

_And then Mark Waters was murdered._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is excited for the last chapter tomorrow?


	21. Chapter 21

Dev was sitting at his desk, already working on his report. Undoubtedly, he had to write one for the Council, too.

“Dev” he breathed.

He looked up and immediately startled to his feet when he saw his face. “What –“

He wordlessly gave him the picture.

“What” he repeated, the colour slowly draining from his face. “Where did you get that?”

“It was at my desk. Next to my picture of Joan.”

“But –“

“Inspector, I am aware that you and Constable Thursday are father and son, but can I please ask you to look at family snap shots in your own time?”

They both stared at Superintendent Bright, who blinked. “What did I just say that for?”

The whole squad room had gone silent. Dev looked at the picture in his hands once more before he closed his eyes. “No – it can’t be.” It was the tone of a man who had begun to hope, and who was scared, no, _terrified_ to.

“Dev –“

“I better call the Council, see if the Chairman is back yet” he said hastily, all but ripping the receiver of the phone. “There might be an explanation –“

“Dev –“ this time it was Jakes who tried, but he just shook his head and started dialling.

Fred was vaguely aware of another phone ringing.

Morse rubbed his face. “No one’s answering –“

“Sorry, matey?” Strange held up a receiver from which a string of words were emitting. Even across the room, the voice sounded vaguely familiar. “I am sorry, but I got someone here who demands to talk you this moment. Won’t take no for an answer. Says he needs to speak to his big brother.”

The phone fell out of Morse’s hands as he dashed towards him.

“Sammy?” he asked as soon as he’d grabbed it.

What followed was a rather one-sided discussion. “It was a – no, yes – of course I don’t – you can’t – Samuel Arthur Thursday! I can’t explain a thing if you can’t be silent for one minute!”

But Sam wasn’t going to get a proper explanation, not then, at least.

There was a commotion at the door with WPC Trewlove trying to mediate. “Excuse me, Miss, I understand, but –“

The next thing they knew, Joan had burst in. With a cry of “Dev!” she barrelled into his arms. It was all he could do to keep onto both her and the phone.

“Joan” he managed to say – quite a feat, since Fred was rather sure she was about to strangle him – “I’m talking to Sam, could you just let go for a second –“

“I am never letting go again” she announced, her face pressed against his shoulder. “I am _never_ letting you out of my sight, period. I am quitting at the Bank and starting working here first thing tomorrow.”

“I think that wouldn’t be very –“

“Non- negotiable” came the muffled response.

“I – Wait a moment – No, Sam, she’s okay –“

He was handling this rather well, or rather, Fred thought, their boy was still under shock. But if he was being honest, so was he. He could only stare at his children talking for the first time in fifteen years.

Perhaps Dev would never have snapped out of it, would never have dared to believe it, if not for another visitor.

Suddenly, Win stop in the doorway, staring at him and Joan. Then, gently, she asked, “Dev? Do you know who I am?”

His lips started to tremble, and he looked remarkably like the little boy who’d asked Fred to make the monsters go away so long ago.

Much, much later, during one of their late night talks, he would tell Fred that it had been looking into her eyes and seeing their shared memories of her holding him as the bombs went down over London that had made him realize this was real. 

“Mum?” he asked quietly, so quietly.

And then she launched herself at him much as their daughter had gone, and he had to let go of the receiver because Joan still persisted on clinging to him in order to wrap his other arm around Win.

It was then that Fred broke out of his own stupor and he rushed to hug his family to his breast, almost knocking over Superintendent Bright in the process who would however assure him later, his voice sounding rather thick with emotion, that he hadn’t minded one bit.

**A little earlier that day**

_At the bank_

Joan was filing some papers when she suddenly felt dizzy, but it went away when she shook her head. Mindy was still telling her about the man she had dumped the previous night.

“It’s really unfair. I mean, the only two good men left in Oxford are your brothers, one of them leaves and you won’t allow me to ask the other one out –“

It took her a moment to understand.

Two brothers. Two brothers.

Dev.

Oh my God, _Dev_.

She grabbed her things and was halfway into her coat before she remembered to call out, “Please, tell them I had to leave. Family emergency.”

_Somewhere in Germany_

Guard duty was the most boring thing about the Army, so he was glad to see Tommy Hansen stray up to him.

“You thinking about going?” he asked, nodding towards the poster Sam had been studying rather absent-mindedly for lack of anything to do. It advertised a performance of Turandot.

For a second, a sudden bout of vertigo made it difficult to answer, but it passed. He shrugged. “Not really the greatest opera fan. My older brother loves it, though.”

He had no idea why those words had come out of his mouth, and then he suddenly had. “Tommy, can you – could you just – take my place for five minutes? _Where’s the next telephone_?”

_At the Thursday home_

She was puttering about upstairs, sipping a cup of tea and looking for the scissors she was sure she had left somewhere. Well, that too – although she had to confess that she had suddenly become convinced that there were some textbooks on magic in the house for no particular reason and decided that now that they had dealt with the Army, as Fred had told her when he called her half an hour ago, it was high time they did their research on how to get Morse his family back.

At the door to Sam’s room, she had to pause for a second because it felt like her head was spinning. Thankfully, a moment later, she was feeling alright again. Out of habit, she checked out the room.

Everything as it should be. Sam’s things neatly packed away, Dev’s record player in place of prominence, his books –

_Dev’s record player?_

Her cup shattered at her feet, and for once, Win didn’t care that the tea was soaking the carpet.

Because the room looked like it had done when her son had last left their home fifteen years ago.

**Now**

Fred was vaguely aware of Jakes picking up the receiver and explaining politely to Sam that right now, everyone was rather feeling too emotional for telephone calls, but that Dev would get in touch with him soon, and then herding them firmly but gently into his office.

“Let’s give them time.”

And then the door closed and they were alone.

When he pulled back slightly, he saw the tears run down Dev’s cheeks. Win immediately started wiping them away with her thumbs. “Sweetheart, don’t. It’s alright; you’re back with us –“

“Mum” he repeated.

“Yes, dear.”

Joan took a few shuddering breaths. “Oh Dev.”

“It’s alright, Joanie” he said, kissing her head, doing his best to compose himself, “like Mum said, I am back now.”

“That you are” he said, squeezing his shoulder probably hard enough to leave bruises but not caring, “That you are, son.”

* * *

When they were calm enough to emerge from the office, Superintend Bright sent them home. “I think we could all use some peace and quiet, now.”

Jakes agreed with him. “I can clean it all up” he told Dev, “Don’t worry. I learned from the best.”

He smiled through red-rimmed eyes that everyone was doing their best to ignore.

“Actually, Commander, why don’t you drive them home? I don’t think we should leave any of them behind the wheel. We can hold the fort until you come back” Ford suggested.

Jakes seemed to want to protest for a moment, but then he nodded.

Right before they left, Ford suddenly called out, “Sir?”

Dev looked at the members of the Guard who’d helped bring down their worst enemies. “Yes?”

“Congratulations” she said softly. “From all of us.” Haddon and Foster nodded along enthusiastically.

Fred thanked her since Dev seemed to be quite uncharacteristically speechless. Not that he could blame his boy.  

And that was how they ended up in the car, Jakes driving, Fred in the front seat while Dev was being fussed over by Win and Joan in the backseat, rather enjoying the attention. And God knew the lad deserved it.

When they arrived, Jakes said, “I’ll go back, make sure everything’s going well.”

Dev still drew him out of the car and a little out of the way, bestowing a quick hug on him and mumbling a few words. They grinned at one another then and Jakes punched his shoulder before leaving.

Win disappeared into the kitchen the second they stepped over the threshold, “You need a good, homecooked meal!”

Joan, meanwhile was still hovering near Dev. How well Fred understood.

“I’ll try and get hold of Sam, like Peter promised” Dev decided and Joan followed him to the telephone, as determined now as she had been when she was but a toddler nipping at her older brother’s heels.

When Fred entered the kitchen, he found Win weeping silently. “Don’t worry” she said, smiling through her tears, “I just needed to have a bit of a cry.”

“Oy, pet. He’s back with us.”

She nodded. “Our family’s complete again.”

That, he thought as he kissed her and heard Dev’s laugh ring through the house, was true.

* * *

Soon after dinner, it became clear that Dev was close to crashing.

“Alright” Win decided when she saw him stifle a yawn for the third time in a minute, “Off to bed with you, young man.”

“Not tired” he protested even as he had to yawn again and Fred understood. He didn’t want to go to sleep in case he woke up to find everything had gone back to the way it had been for fifteen long years.

His Win, though, wouldn’t take no for an answer, insisting he needed to rest. And since Dev was completely done in, she all but had to put him to bed like a little boy, Fred and Joan trailing behind them.

When she went to take the chain with the key off, however, he protested feebly. “Please don’t, Mum.”

Win realized at the same time they did – he wasn’t ready to let go yet – and allowed him to sleep with it.

He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Fred half-feared that Joan would camp on his floor, but instead she leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Love you, big brother” she whispered.

He stirred long enough to answer, “Love you too, Joanie.”

Win and Joan quietly left the room; Fred looked down on their oldest. Dev really seemed exhausted, but he wasn’t too worried. It had been a long day.

He closed the door as gently as he could.

He was proven correct when the doorbell rang and he found the Chairman waiting for him. “Inspector. May I have a word?”

“Of course.”

He led him to the living room, Joan and Win drinking tea in the kitchen.

“How is he doing?” were the Chairman’s first words, surprising Fred.

“Sleeping.”

“Best thing for him. A dangerous spell was lifted off him today. It would be best if he stayed home for one or two days to recuperate.”

“We’ll make sure of it.”

In fact, if he told Win, she’d probably cuff him to his bed. “No one who didn’t know about it before will remember the spell, won’t they” Fred asked a question that had been burning on his tongue for a while.

He shook his head. “No. Magic is fickle, but it usually looks after its own. Everything will be fine.” The Chairman was looking at the family pictures that they kept in the room and that were, finally, complete again. “There is every reason to think that Octavia’s suicide was the reason the spell was lifted. It often is, when it comes to such malicious magic.”

And Fred understood. “You didn’t give her a chance, did you?”

The Chairman turned to him. “I might have insinuated that she could either take her own life or she would be handed over to the Council and we would deal with her. Maybe it wasn’t quite legal in your sense, but it was necessary…” he paused and seemed to come to a decision, then added, “You see, our kind cannot harm each other. It’s very old blood magic.”

 _Their_ kind?

He looked at Fred then, and just for a second, he could have sworn his eyes turned opal white before looking normal again. “And for what it’s worth, it was easier on my sister than letting the other Council members deal with her.”

“Your sister?”

For a moment, something like grief passed across his face, then it was gone, extinguished abruptly like a candle in the wind. “She went down the wrong path a long time ago. In the end, I think, she was scared of magic, scared of what she could do, and it turned her into a monster. I had been trying to stop her for quite a while when Endeavour showed up. I knew immediately what she had done. I knew her powers very well, you see.”

And so he had recruited him to –

Guessing his thoughts, the Chairman continued, “I do not deny that I used him. That would be futile. But when you think of that, also consider that I protected him, gave him the education he needed, work to do so he wouldn’t go mad.”

There was nothing he could say to that.

 “You have an exceptional son, DI Thursday. I trust you will take good care of him.” And as he looked at the picture of a laughing seven-year-old Dev, an expression Fred had never seen on him and probably no one ever would again crossed his face, and he knew than that even the Chairman had a hunch as to what he must be feeling now that they had their boy back.

“I will leave you alone, Inspector. Good night.”

But he stopped just before Fred could open the door. “One more thing, Fred – if I may? I know what Octavia told Dev. And please believe me when I say – his heart may be battered and bruised, but it didn’t break, and it didn’t turn evil and never will.”

“I didn’t doubt it for a second.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

As he was passing the threshold, Fred asked, “Chairman?” He turned to him. “Thank you.”

He smiled then. “You and your son are very similar. So human.” He nodded and left.

* * *

Jakes called shortly afterwards to ask if all was well, meaning he mostly wanted to know how Dev was.

“We’re all doing fine. Learning to cope.”

“Good. That’s good.”

After a pause, Fred asked, “Peter?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you. You – you looked after him when I couldn’t. I won’t ever forget that.”

“It’s a two-way street, sir. He was there for me in my darkest time, too.”

They hung up soon afterwards.

* * *

He believed everyone in the house except for him had gone to sleep. He was having a quiet smoke before retiring himself.

Then he hears a noise. “Hello?”

Dev emergences from the shadows. “Sorry, Dad. Didn’t want to scare you. I just woke up and I had to…” he trailed off.

He had had to make sure. To look at their family pictures, touch his piano, to feel that he was home once more.

Fred got up. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

* * *

Win had woken up quite suddenly and been overwhelmed by the urge to check on their boy. Dread filled her when she found his bed empty, but then she heard Fred’s laughter from the kitchen and knew all was well.

“Mum?” Joan, obviously intent on the same thing she had wanted to do, asked.

“They’re downstairs, talking” she whispered back.

“Ah. Doing their thing.” She was rather sure they thought they didn’t know.

And in the darkness, mother and daughter smiled at one another.

* * *

They didn’t really speak of what had happened today. Instead, they confided small anecdotes to one another, amusing little stories about things that had taken place while they had been apart.

When Dev started yawning once more, Fred sent him bac to bed. “I’ll wash up here.”

He looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded.

Fred pulled him into a hug.

Just before he left the kitchen he said, “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, son.”

He washed and dried the cups with a big smile on his face, even as a few tears for the lost years escaped his eyes.

* * *

The next morning, Fred woke up to hear something he hadn’t in a very long time.

Dev was playing the piano.

As he quietly walked down the stairs, he recognized the tune. Pachelbel’s canon in d major. Dev loved it, but had only played it rarely; when he’d asked him once, their then-teenage son had explained that he felt it should only be heard on very special occasions.

He was a bit rusty, of course, but it was still the most beautiful thing Fred had ever heard.

As he walked into the living room, Dev, still in his pyjamas, lingered over the final note. When he turned to tell him good morning, he had to clear his throat; there were all-too understandable tears in his eyes. “Morning, Dad.”

“Good morning, son” he reached out and squeezed his shoulder, “I would suggest we make breakfast, but I’m rather sure your mother won’t allow you to do any chores for a while.”

“You are right about that, Fred Thursday” Win declared, sweeping into the room to gather Dev in a hug, “And now come, you can help me make breakfast for the children.”

* * *

In the end, Dev did go to work with Fred, although Win made him promise to take it easy about a hundred times and gave him no fewer than five sandwiches with the words “You’re too thin, sweetheart”. Joan, meanwhile, took the reasonable route of making him swear that he’d call her every few hours to assure her that yes, he still existed and also yes, he was still her big brother.

Jakes was not surprised when he found both of them waiting for him, although he did raise an eyebrow when he saw the sandwiches.

“They didn’t have to make such a fuss” Dev told them as they walked to the car, and Fred realized part of him was still acting, still automatically trying to behave like he was just his bagman.

“I don’t think you can escape that” Jakes said carefully. “Give it time, though. Like – fifteen years?”

Fred would never have said it, but it did make Dev laugh.

* * *

Jakes hung around Dev for the better part of the day. Eventually, Fred heard Dev tell him, “You don’t need to mother me, that’s what I have a _mother_ for.” He sounded awed, as if he still couldn’t quite believe it.

Fred had already noticed he was still wearing the key around his neck.  

“I’d say so, matey” Strange came to the rescue. “That’s a picnic you got there!”

“Do you want one? I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to –“

“You eat all of those, Captain Thursday” Jakes told him, “Or I am telling your mother.”

The door opened all the way and Bright walked in, looking a little confused. “Inspector. I just wanted to know how things are going. I have to say, this will take some getting used to.”

“It’s all going well, sir.”

He nodded. “Good. Good. If I may?” he picked up the picture of Dev and Sam at Fred’s nod. Looking at it, he added, “I’d say I am not as surprised as I should be… but then, that was always going to be the case. Nothing really surprises me any more when it comes to Mo- to Constable Thursday.”

Fred thought he’d never get tired of hearing those two words.

* * *

Dev moved back home two days later, them, Jakes, the rest of the Guard as well as Strange and Trewlove vying for who got to help him the most. If he hadn’t decided to come back, Fred thought, Win would probably have dragged him there herself.

* * *

There were difficult moments, of course. Try as they might, nothing could do away with the fact that they had spent fifteen years apart, years in which they should have watched Dev grow into the man he was today; and so, when Dev made an acerbic remark the boy they so well remembered would never have, or when his piano playing sounded slightly off – although he was getting better by the day – or when he got called away to urgent business in regards to the Guard, he saw Win’s and Joan’s slightly confused faces and knew his was probably wearing the same expression.

One evening, Dev and Joan were playing Scrabble and had just entered a rather passionate but good-natured argument on whether he was allowed to lay a word like periagua (“It’s an Archaic variant of piragua, or a two-masted flat-bottomed boat, Joanie, I once used one when I –“ “Alright, you will tell me all about that later because I need to know, but don’t think you can get out of this just like that, mister –“) and it was a good thing because it meant they didn’t see Win beat a rather fast retreat to the kitchen.

He followed her and found his wife, who had been busy re-arranging the pictures on the fire mantle to include a new one with Dev they had taken the previous Sunday, clutch the snap shot from the day he had finished school.

“Win?”

“It’s silly” she sniffed. “I – Dev is a wonderful young man. I love him, and I – he’s achieved so much. I couldn’t ask for a better son. But we’ll never see that boy again.”

No, no they wouldn’t. He could only nod.

“They took so much from us.”

“Aye, pet” he said, drawing her into his arms, “But if we’re lucky, we’ll have a lot of time to catch up.”

She sniffed once more, then nodded against his chest. When she drew back, he saw with relief that she was smiling. “He really does come after his father.”

“I’m rather sure he got any common sense he has from his two mothers.”

“Oh, you –“

She kissed him then, and he knew everything would be alright.

Especially since Joan decided to call out at this very moment, “Mum! Dad! Could you come here please and tell Dev that _no one_ knows what _yex_ means!”

“It’s an old expression for weeping!”

They decided to make them all tea.

* * *

About three months after the spell had been lifted, Fred found Dev sitting quietly in the kitchen, seemingly lost in thought. Before he could ask, his son, who hadn’t yet realized he’d come down, slowly took the chain off and slipped the key in his pocket for the first time in years.

He gently retreated. There were some things no one was meant to see.

**Six months later**

As a wise man had once told him, it was all about routine. Once one got used to things, it was difficult to imagine them ever changing again.

Not that he had any desire for that to happen, Dev thought, as he once more woke up in his old bed at home. _Home_. His true home.

As often happened, he was the first one up and so he put the kettle on.

It was a habit of theirs to make sure there was enough tea for every visitor who might come by these days.

The door bell rang.

Habit. Routine. He didn’t need them anymore to get through his days, if he was being honest, he thought as he went to open the door to Peter.

He had something far, far better now.

* * *

It wasn’t unusual these days to find the kitchen already occupied when he went downstairs. “Morning, son. Morning, Peter.”

“Dad.”

“Good morning, sir.”

They were hunched over a few pieces of paper. “If we divide the country in squares, then we could police even more –“

“Oh great” Peter sighed. “Even more paperwork. Your sister is going to bring us all into an early grave with her filing _endeavours_.”

Joan had indeed quit at the bank, and while she hadn’t exactly started a job at Cowley station, she had obtained one as the new quasi-accountant of the Guard. Sam, meanwhile, was busy planning to come home as soon as possible; and Fred had little doubts as to where he would be working once he did.

“Hey, no word against my baby sister.”

Peter raised his hands. “Just saying.”

Fred poured himself a cup of tea and smiled. These days, their house served as much as a base for the Guard as it did as their home. None of them minded. Peter came over so often Fred had considered whether he should offer him a bed there too in only a half-joking manner.

Both he and Dev continued to juggle their responsibilities as Captain and Commander of the Guard and sergeants (finally, both of them) rather well. As a matter of fact, there might be even more in store for them. The Chairman, who’d made a habit of dropping by for dinner from time to time, had begun to allude that he might eventually retire (or rather, he had hinted that people tended to get “suspicious after a few decades” although Fred had chosen not to ask) and it was rather obvious who he wanted to succeed him. And looking at Dev and Peter talk, Fred had equally little doubt as to who would head the Guard, then.   

He couldn’t have been prouder of everything his son had achieved if he’d tried.

“Anything I should know?” he asked. The hat stand rule had long been abandoned. It was simply too much to ask with two police officers under one roof.

“Not right now, but you will the second there is something” Dev answered.

“Are we talking shop again?” Win asked, sweeping into the kitchen. “Ah, Peter. You’ll stay for breakfast, won’t you?”

Fred hardly doubted any of them could tell her no.

Joan soon joined them, gathering her brother in a tight hug like she did every morning since he’d returned.

It promised to be another good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are then, my friends. I hope you liked it! Just a few fun facts I thought might interest you.  
> 1\. This sneaky sneaky Chairman wouldn't tell me the truth about himself for quite some time, so I then had to add a few things to certain scenes (anyone notice both he and his sister were described as unblinking? I am an artist^^).  
> 2\. I didn't think Jakes would get as much of the spotlight as he did, but I'm not mad.  
> 3\. AUs where Morse is a Thursday will never get old. Never ever.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rusty Cage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033488) by [imaginationtherapy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationtherapy/pseuds/imaginationtherapy)




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